Nightingale
by Mitsukai Mizu Amaya
Summary: Every so often a country enters Insanity. The Holocaust, Civil Wars, World Wars I and II, the Rwandan genocide... Sometimes the others countries can snap them out of it. And sometimes they can't. This is the rise and the fall of the French Empire.
1. You May Hide

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia. I don't own any countries, I am no world leader or president, etc. etc.

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Chapter One

**You May Hide**

"_The insane, on occasion, are not without their charms"_

_Kurt Vonnegut Jr._

_

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_

The Insanity.

Us countries don't talk about it much. It's sort of a taboo subject. Everyone enters the Insanity at one point or another. The humans that inhabit us; they change with the flow of time and sometimes that change changes us. Changes us into something _different_ for a time. Sometimes it's for the best and we become strong and better for it. Sometimes we turn inward and focus on ourselves. And sometimes... outwardly or inwardly, we lash out. Lash out on our selves in a civil war, lash out on others in battle, conquer, destroy, take take take. Imperialism, Colonialism, World War, names for what we just call the Insanity. It usually happens to the older, bigger countries; I've never had it myself; I'm just a tiny little island nation. But someday I will...

Germany went through it during World War II; millions died. Infected Japan with it too. He recovered rather quickly. Our people called it the Holocaust.

Russia went through it later on; millions of his own people died. Russia has gone into Insanity many times... he still hasn't completely recovered.

England went into a smaller kind of Insanity when he tried to hold onto America. America and France managed to snap him out of it though... but not before a lot of fighting was done and lives lost.

France... Francis...

It usually takes one or more other countries to break us out of the Insanity. I guess it's how we atone for not being able to stop it sooner. The Insanity comes slowly, very, very slowly. Most of us don't notice... or don't care. It can take decades sometime, centuries even. Once in a while it only takes a few years. Sometimes the Insane attacks another country, sometimes they infect others first. It takes so long to realize one of the countries has been infected with the Insanity of their own people that it is usually too late. Sometimes the country is so Insane they can't see reason anymore. Sometimes that have to be destroyed. And sometimes they destroy themselves; like Yugoslavia.

Heavy breathing. Run. Run. Run. Have to get away, have to escape. Cannot get caught. Not again, not again. Running through the dark, dank corridors of our latest shelter I found a door. I ripped it open, threw my self through and slammed it shut. Sliding down the rotten wood I tried to catch my breath. I hurt all over; bones aching, cuts bleeding, bruises in all colors of the rainbow. Someone banged on the door and I screamed. Looking around, eyes frantic and shaking with pure fear, I found shelter. Throwing myself at the closet door I managed to get it open and closed just as the rotten door swung open and I caught a glimpse of something blue.

"Francis-nii..." I mouthed, curling up with my head buried in my knees. A soundless sob escaped me as I backed up further in the closet. The world was at war again; I had to run. Had to hide. Hide from the one's who have entered Insanity. Hide from the ones infected with it. Infected by _him_.

I got separated just a bit ago from my friends. A few other African nations and myself had managed to run and hide in a small abandoned town on the mainland. We thought we were far enough from the front lines. We thought we were safe from the fighting, the bloodshed. Safe from the nuclear contamination from the bombing of Europe and Africa. But we were wrong.

There's no such thing as safe anymore.

We were found and flushed out, not an hour ago. _He_ found us, along with the others who had entered Insanity. Most of them used to be my friends, people I loved and shard my feelings with. People I missed.

We all scattered and hid, too afraid to come out and too weak to face them. They wanted to possess us all, make us all Insane. Feed the growing Empire. Thank goodness most of us were still too small, too young of a nation, to become Insane. We were lucky; fast, quick, good at what we do – hiding - and most of all immune. But many of us were getting sick, our lands and people taken away from us. A country without land and people is not a country and will fade away.

"Sesel..." My head shot up and my eyes widened. Cold slithered down my back and I started to shiver. A new sheen of sweat broke out as I fought to control my breathing. The voice that had once made me feel love and hope now injected my veins with nothing but cold fear and dread. "Mon chéri d'amour... why are you hiding?"

_'Because you've gone Insane, nii-chan'_ I wanted to say. But my throat was sore from all the running, all the screaming. And I had to stay quiet; had to hide. Run and hide, run and hide, run and hide little rabbit. I wanted to go to him, to jump out and snap him out of it like he and America has done to England. I wanted to get my Francis back, the perverted old man France. The one who raised me, was always there for me... by my side when I needed him.

"Sesel, come out and play," He cooed in that far too familiar tenor from somewhere outside my sanctuary, "You know I would never hurt you."

No, he wouldn't. Not intentionally. Not physically. _He _wouldn't; others would. I tried to scoot back as far and as silently as I could. I wouldn't let him catch me; I had been running for so long, I couldn't give up now. Not until this was all over. Not until he was himself again.

"Sesel..." I used to love when he used that nickname for me. Now I couldn't stand it. It brought up feelings I didn't want. Memories I'd rather forget. I could feel the stinging of tears threatening to spill from my eyes, so I curled up and buried myself further. Maybe he would go away, maybe he would leave me be. Maybe I could run away and never look back, run to find any of the others. America, England, Italy, Germany... anyone. Run away and leave him behind.

A small part of me didn't want to.

A door closed somewhere outside. I loosed the breath I hadn't realized I was holding and dared to lift my head. Everything was dark as pitch but through the small bits of light filtering through the slits in the door I could see my dirty feet, torn dress – once teal but now an ashen grey – and scratched up, blood-caked skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, I lifted myself up to my knees and inched towards the closet door. Beads of cold sweat rolled down the back of my neck as my fingertips grazed the doorknob. I couldn't see much outside it; my eyes hadn't adjusted yet. Something told me not to open it, to just stay here forever. Safe in the darkness. Stay out of the light, Seychelles! Stay out of the light; they'll find you there! But I had to escape... had to run. So I grasped the doorknob with renewed determination. It turned.

I wasn't the one turning it.

I was bathed in light and screamed, launching myself backwards and curling up amongst the discarded and decrepit coats. In a futile attempt to hide I covered myself with some of them, burying my head between my knees in the mound.

"Sesel?" I squeezed my eyes shut, unwilling to open them and look at the man, my brother, my father, the country I love. That beautiful accented voice, singing my name and tearing me in half. I wanted to cry. A warm hand gently pulled the coat away, "Mon chéri, you're hurt."

I opened up eyes but kept them trained on the gash on my left arm. _'Don't touch me...'_ I got it running from the French Empire. Despite my fear I felt a bubble of pure rage born within me; I wanted to yell at him, scream, kick, fight, and tear everything to pieces. I was hurt running from him, running from the carnage _HE_ caused! But no... no... I had to remind myself that this wasn't him. Not really. It was the Insanity; the people that lived in France that changed him so much. The people wanted an Empire; they wanted to unite the world under the banner of France. We change to want what our people, our leadership, want.

"Come on, Sesel," he gripped my arms and helped me to stand. I looked away, down at my feet, as he led me to a moth-eaten couch in the dilapidated, run-down building we had been hiding in. "That's it..." He sat me down gently and knelt next to me. I tossed my head to the side. I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want to see the difference. Or maybe I was afraid to see how little had actually changed.

"Sesel..." He grabbed my injured arm and slipped a roll of gauze out of his military jacket pocket. I closed my eyes, wishing he would leave, wishing he wouldn't make me feel so torn, so weak, so utterly _useless_. I felt him begin to clean and bandage my arm. It stung a little, but nothing I wasn't used to lately. He was always so gentle with me, even before all this happened. So kind, so free... I missed it. Even his perverted nature. The way he kept trying to see how my body had developed, how he comforted me when England was mean, even how he used to try to teach me how to cook. I missed it all.

A sob escaped me and I squeezed my eyes shut again, rubbing them with my free hand. I was caught now; there was nothing I could do. Once again under him, his maid to dress and play with. I wouldn't mind so much, I wouldn't even care to be his again... if he was the same man I knew.

"Sesel, are you alright?" A hand took mine away from my face while the other caressed my cheek, "Mon chéri, look at me."

I didn't want to; I wanted to stay in my world where he was a nice and gentle romantic pervert, not a war-mongering imperialist. I didn't want to see how he had changed. I wanted to run, run like the frightened rabbit I am. But when I felt his grip tighten I knew I had no choice. I had to live; I didn't know what he would do if I made him angry. He said he wouldn't hurt me but his people had grown even more passionate than before, passion only matched by a new-found ruthlessness inherent in a religious imperialist agenda. But I couldn't curse his people for doing this. If I cursed them, hated them, then I hated him.

I could never hate my Francis.

Turning to face him I opened my eyes a little bit at a time. My heart felt wrenched from my chest, stomped on, and eaten all at once. It was terrifying, horrifying, and oh-so familiar. He had the same wavy blonde hair with bits gathered into a small messy ponytail. Almost. The same compassionate blue eyes. Almost. The same smile, tweak of the eyebrow, blonde stubble, strong but gentle body... almost.

Almost, but not quite.

He wasn't Francis Bonnefoy, the country of France, anymore. He was the French Empire. The passionate, ruthless, terrible, beautiful French Empire.

"Mon chéri Sesel, what's the matter?" France tilted his head like he used to when worried about me. Like when I had fallen out of a tree when I was still a girl...

Another sob escaped me. He caressed my face with his hand and I looked into his beautiful ocean-blue eyes. The eyes of a powerful country, with all the emotions and feelings of it's people held within. The eyes of a man who taught me everything, of the love I wanted back. Something in me broke then and I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him tight. Sobs racked my tired form as France held me to his strong body. A little too tightly. A little too familiar.

"French Empire!" The door was thrown open and a few men walked in. I didn't know most of them, save for the two in the center of the group. Once my friends from World Academy W and now afflicted with the same Insanity as France. I remember when we all used to laugh together...

"Yes?" France's eyes grew cold and distant as he let go of me and turned to the others.

Japan sheathed his sword and gave a slight bow of respect, "We have gathered up most of the African nations that took refuge here, Bonnefoy-san."

"How many? Which ones?" Why did they call him that? He wasn't my Francis anymore.

"Seven," Greece answered from next to Japan, "Ghana, Niger, Eritrea, Mauritania, Chad, Sudan, and Uganda. The soldiers have rounded them all up and are awaiting your orders."

"Take them back to Paris," France ordered, "See if we can get any of them to join us willingly. The others will need to be... _persuaded_."

My eyes widened as the two saluted him and the three left, France ordering the others to take me to the rest of them. This wasn't France; this wasn't the man I knew. I wanted him back so much... so much it hurt. I wanted everything to go back to the way it was. Swimming with France, bickering with England, watching anime with Japan, Germany, and Italy. I wanted it all back. I wanted _him_ back.

But there was no going back. He was gone. Francis Bonnefoy was dead; the French Empire killed him.

"Get up," One of the men lifted me up roughly. Pain erupted in my arm with his vice grip on my bandages. All that would come out was a weak whimper. They led me from the room and through the crumbling, dark walls to outside. It was dark now and in the center of the tiny huts in this shadow of a town were my comrades.

"Uganda!" I yelled out. The man who held me gripped my arm tighter and I yelped. He threw me towards the others and the dark-skinned African nation caught me when I stumbled. Uganda straightened me up and smiled weakly. A metallic glint told me he was handcuffed, and a quick sweep of the others revealed them all to be as well. Not only handcuffed but shackled; chained like animals waiting to escape. Which was true.

We were animals now. Hunted and fighting to survive.

I jumped when someone tapped my shoulder and swerved around to have a soldier clamp the same handcuffs on me.

"You the island Seychelles?" Another soldier next to him asked. I nodded numbly, my entire body screaming at me to run. I wanted away from here, I wanted out of this horrid place. The soldiers walked in front of me and thrust his arms behind my neck. I jumped and squeezed my eyes shut, the feeling of something metallic being snapped around my neck. When he was done I opened my eyes and reached up to touch it. I paled.

A collar. A colonies collar.

It was like the collar England had made me wear back at the Academy but all silvery metal and more like a choker. My body felt icy as I fingered the ornately carved fleur de lis at it's center.

"SeySey..." I looked down to see the little Eritrea tugging at my torn dress. She didn't have a collar. Neither did any of the others... what did that mean?

"What's wrong Eri?" I knelt down and ruffled her long scraggly hair. She wore a dress that was once white but now had the color of the sick tuna back home. Home...

"Where are we going?" Her voice was so childlike and so innocent it made me want to cry all over again. She reminded me of myself, running through the sandy beaches of home with France trying to chase me down for my lessons. He never caught me. Didn't really try to, either. He was always so kind and playful...

"Away for a while," I choked out, "We... we're going to Paris, Eri."

Eritrea's eyes brightened, "That pretty city you always talk about, SeySey?"

"Y... yeah," I nodded and stood back up, looking around as the soldiers continued looking for the others countries that had hidden with us. They wouldn't find them if they hadn't yet; we hadn't survived this long for nothing. Eritrea grabbed my hand and squeezed it with all the might in her tiny body. I wanted to scream.

A military truck came to a stop in front of us, close enough to make all eight of us flinch. But the Empire soldiers stood strong and, one by one, thrust forward and jerked us into the truck. When we were all in two of them pulled themselves, holding assault rifles in their hands. They sat on either end of the truck's opening and I held Eritrea tighter to me. Another threw the gate of the back of the truck closed and I heard the distinct click of a lock. Eritrea whimpered and held onto me with her little fists, her body shivering. It wasn't even cold out.

In the distance, coming out of one of the buildings, I saw him again. Dressed in his military finest as before – almost as fancy as during the War of Austrian Succession – France scanned the grounds as if looking for something. All blues, reds, frills and lace. Fashionable, as he always has been. I remember when he showed up on my island like that, a bright smile on his face and the wind flowing through his golden hair. A choked sob ripped from my throat at the memory. A soldier hit me with the butt of his gun.

The truck kicked to life again and started away from what was once our sanctuary, and in the last moments the two of us locked eyes. He mouthed something to me and my face paled.

"J'ai finalement vous avez trouvé, mon chéri Sesel," He smiled that sweet, kind smile from my childhood. Almost, "Tu es à moi à nouveau, une partie de moi."

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**Author's Note:** I had a dream last night that started this one off. It's weird because, while I am a Hetalia fan, I'm not the kind who'd go off an write fanfic or be... overzealous about it like others. But I had a dream about this and haven't been able to get it out of my head, so here you go. Tell me what you think of it... it's kind of my take on the wars in human history with a Hetalia twist. Kind. Sorta. Yeah. .

**Translations:**

**French:**

Mon chéri d'amour - My darling love

Mon chéri - My darling

J'ai finalement vous avez trouvé, mon chéri Sesel - I have finally found you my darling Sesel

Tu es à moi à nouveau, une partie de moi - you are mine again; a part of me


	2. You May Run

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia. I don't own any countries, I am no world leader or president, etc. etc.

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Chapter Two

**You May Run**

"_Running away will never make you free"_

_Kenny Loggins

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_

"_Ho, ho... going on an aimless trip to a southern island is a pretty good idea!" France swept his blonde hair from his face, looking at me out of the corner of his eye with dark sunglasses halfway down his nose._

_I giggled and turned away, looking into the fresh waters of the island. Something glinted in the warm sunlight and I plunged into the water, coming up with a fish clutched in my hands and a bright smile on my face. "Ah, can I eat the fish? Fish. It's a fresh fish!" I turned to France with wide smile, holding out the fish for him to see. He just smirked and chuckled, waving his hand at me as if to say 'do what you want, Sesel'._

_Something seemed to catch his eye and I turned. Following his gaze I saw two men on the sandy beach. "Hmm?" I looked over when France spoke, "Wait... what're those two doing on this deserted island?" Those... two? I looked back over at the men; they reminded me of big brother France with their hair and eyes. One had really bushy eyebrows though..._

_Wait._

_Bushy eyebrows?_

_I blinked and almost jumped. It was England and America! What were they doing on my island? They weren't thinking of making me a colony again, were they? I didn't want to be a colony. France stood up and lazily walked towards the duo who seemed to be... bickering? Again? My days at World Academy W came flooding back and I sighed. I hope France and I never ended up fighting like those two._

"_... still, you can't go to such a misleading place..." England seemed desperate about something. What place? My pigtails bounced when I jumped up, holding the fish to my chest with both hands, and started towards the two with France._

_America seemed to blow off his brother, "But, I won't confuse my underwear for a handkerchief." The rowdy nation laughed as my former master gave a heavy sigh. America must be a lot to handle..._

_France looked over at me, then back at the two of them, "Seriously, what are they doing?" He looked odd. Off, distressed kind of. Like the fact that those two had come here really bothered him._

_Then it dawned on me; if England and America were here, I would need more fish! I had never had so many visitors before... what kind of fish should I get? More Tuna? Maybe some halibut? Oh wait, that's Canada and America's Alaska specialty. I looked up at France, back at my fish, then back at him, "Or would a flying fish be better? Is it?" If France helped me cook it, then maybe England and America would like it. We could all have a happy time together!_

_We could all have a happy time together..._

_A happy... time..._

"_Seychelles run," England was talking to me for some reason. He didn't turn around and looked like he was still bickering with his younger brother but he was talking to me. I tilted my head and the fish in my arms squirmed. What did he mean run? From what?_

"_Run Seychelles," Now it was America too. But neither of them even looked at me, still playfully fighting with each other. I looked up at France, questions swimming in my eyes. What were they talking about?_

_Then I knew._

_He looked like France. Almost. Stood like France. Almost. But he wasn't France anymore. _

_He started to turn but before he could I dropped the fish and took off. I had to run; I had to escape. Get away, Seychelles! Run, run and survive! He will eat you whole if he catches you! You can't let him, you can never let him._

_I could hear him chasing me. He and the others that made up the French Empire. I had to keep running, running and saving others._

"_Sesel..." I squeezed my eyes shut against the voice._

"_Seychelles..." No! I didn't want this! Why did this have to happen?_

"_SeySey!"_

_

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_

I was jerked away by someone incessantly tugging at my arm. I tried to rub the sleep from my eyes, groggily looking around to get my bearings. Then the weight of where I was came crashing down on me; we were still in that truck, still captured and shackled. But at least we weren't on a plane. There was still hope.

Once I was fully awake I looked down at the little girl who held onto me to so desperately, "Eritrea?"

"SeySey, look!" She pointed out the open back of the truck with her little hands. I followed them with my eyes until I could see what she saw.

It was a wasteland. And in the distance was the remains of the Hotel Beau Rivage. We were in Switzerland... Geneva to be more precise. One of the few nations able to stay neutral so far; the rest had either taken sides or were conquered. Switzerland seemed to be the only bigger country immune to the Insanity. No one really knows how he keeps his eternal neutrality. But neutrality couldn't keep the nation safe from the bombs.

The nation was in ruins, like so many others. No one really knows who fired the first nuke. The enemies of the French Empire, the Alliance, claimed it was France. France and his allies claimed it was Russia. Whomever it was they loosed bombs on each other and decimated the world. Grey clouds were so thick in some areas that you could never see the sun while in others it barely lit up the ground and seemed to set much earlier. Trees were barren and everything was brown in Switzerland now; one part of the huge no-man's-land between France and Russia. It made me wonder how hard the other continents had been hit.

I looked straight up when I saw what Eritrea had been pointing at. The bodies. Mounds and mounds of dead bodies strewn haphazardly across the land. Every now and then the truck would jerk when we hit one and I felt bile rise in my throat. I covered the young nation's eyes and held her to me, turning to the others. Uganda looked stoic like usual, and the others all wore blank faces. They were used to this kind of thing by now, though usually not on this massive scale. I felt sick to my stomach. If this is what happens when a nation gets big and goes to war then I want to stay as a little island forever.

"SeySey, why are those guys sleeping in piles?" The tiny nation asked.

My eyes stung with tears again but I blinked to hold them back. I had to stay strong for her... like France would for me when he fought with the other nations. I smiled sadly at her, "They... they must be tired, Eri."

"Okay," she gripped my tattered dress and buried her face in it. I think she knew; deep down inside she knew that they weren't sleeping. None of us could sleep anymore; sleep meant nightmares. Or worse... visions of the world before the war and before the bombs.

I sighed and looked down at the shackled girl in my lap. We were passing Geneva; very soon we would cross the border into France. Once there we would never come out. Unless we went Insane ourselves and joined the French Empire. Or we faded away when our lands and people were taken.

"_Seychelles run." _My head snapped up as I heard England's words. My dream... he had been right. I had to run. Had to get out. Run, run away... far away from all this madness and hurt. If I ran then I could ignore it. Pretend everything was fine. If I ran everything was normal; just France playing hide-and-seek with me like he would when I was little.

The two guards were still there, assault rifles clenched in their hands. I looked from them to Eritrea to the others and back. There had to be something, someway to get out of here.

Then there was an explosion. I screamed as the truck was flipped over from the force of it. We were thrown from our seats and tossed around like ragdolls. I held Eritrea to me as I was knocked senseless, taking the brunt of the damage. There was gunfire again; screams and orders being shouted all around me. They were muffled, fuzzy, just like everything else. Something snapped and there was more screaming. More pain. Was it me? Eritrea? I could see only red... so much red. The truck finally came to a stop and I could feel myself slipping. I didn't want the red. Something arm and sticky trickled down the side of my head. More red. My vision was crimson, I tasted scarlet, and everything _hurt. _I tried to lift myself, vaguely aware of a little girl crying over me but too tired and too hurt to _care_ and just wanting to go to sleep. Please just let me rest.

"SeySey!" Can't everyone shut up? I'm tired, so tired...

"Get... nation's... truck... Sesel," My eyes snapped open at the disjointed sound of a faraway voice. I knew that voice. Too familiar.

"_Run Seychelles."_

I pushed myself up on sheer willpower alone and blinked away the blood that had seeped into my eyes. The body-covered road had erupted into chaos. There was gunfire coming from a ridge not that far from us and something told me there wasn't much time. The soldiers that guarded us were unconscious. Instinct kicked in; I pushed off the ground and took off. Something grabbed me and and I jerked back to see the youngest of my African friends tugging on the hem of my dress.

"SeySey!" Eritrea's voice was high and frightened. She was just a little girl, a small nation not used to this kind of conflict. I was torn. I looked at the others who had already scattered, looked at the battle around me, then at the child-nation.

Then I locked my brown eyes with blue.

A sudden burst of adrenaline gave me the strength to pick up the little girl and take off running despite the pain in my wrist. France gave shouts behind me and the soldiers closest lunged. I don't know how I managed to dodge them or how I could even have gotten out of that truck. But I did, and with strength I didn't know I possessed I dashed down the road with the child in my arms and scurried up a dirt hill like a rat.

I made for the ruins of Geneva, thanking this god, that god, and the other one that I had made it out in one piece. But I couldn't stop now, couldn't slow down. I had to run; it was all I knew how to do now. Running and hiding is what I'm good at.

But even a runner can only run so far.

My vision was getting blurry around the edges but I _had_ to keep going. It wasn't just me I had to worry about; it was the screaming little girl in my arms. I dodged between torn down walls, crumbling concrete and crashed cars. I ran, on and on without pausing and without stopping. If I did, I feared I may never get up again. I could hear them chasing me but refused to look back. Looking back is dangerous.

I was pulled through an open doorway, gloved hands gripping my arm. Eritrea and I tried to scream when someone tore her from my grasp but were both silenced by hands over our mouths. Everything was dark and I could hear my labored breath, feeling my heart beating against my chest. My eyes darted around, trying to adjust to the dark so I could see just who had caught us.

"Shh," The one who held me said. I nodded vigorously and we all fell silent. The sounds of the soldiers footsteps grew louder and sweat poured down my face. They would find us... they could catch us, take us back there. Back to where my heart was do torn between wanting to be by France's side and hating what he had become. They would find us, they would...

They ran right by the door and were gone.

Our saviors waited a few more minutes, listening to the sounds of far-off gunfire before letting us go. Eritrea ran into my arms and hugged me around the middle. I looked up at the ones who had helped us, one hand patting the girls head. One had silvery hair and striking bright blue eyes, wearing a dark brown uniform with white boots and a torn white shirt. The other was blonde with an odd curl and a navy blue sailor's uniform. There were other rebels with them and the whole lot looked exhausted and torn up. How long had they been waiting here for us to come by? How did they _know_ we were coming this way at all?

"What country are you?" The silver-haired one asked me.

"Sey... S-Sey..." I felt languid and the words same out in a slur, "Repiblik Sesel... uh, Seychelles. This is Eritrea."

"Norway of the Alliance," The other one said, followed by the silver-haired one, "Iceland."

The younger of the two, Iceland, walked over to the door. It was then I noticed the pistol in his hand and felt what color I might have had left drain. The others held similar weapons, though most bigger and more imposing then Iceland and Norway's pistols. Everything was happening so fast... "It's clear; we should fall back," Iceland said.

"Not until we hear from the others," Norway looked away from us and walked over to a small walkie-talkie on an old rotten bench.

"We need to fall back," Iceland argued, "We've got two of them, and England won't wait for us much longer."

The other nation said nothing and everything fell silent. Norway watched the walkie-talkie while Iceland stood poised with his hand on the doorknob. The others Alliance soldiers looked torn between the two of them. My fingers and toes felt cold and I knew it wouldn't be long before I passed out.

I looked down at the frightened nation clinging to me and then back up at the other two. My fists clenched, "Why don't a few of you go and take Eritrea with you?"

All eyes were on me and Norway raised an eyebrow. Iceland's brow furrowed, "What about you, Seychelles?"

"I..." I wanted to run. But too many could draw the Empire's focus and Eritrea wasn't the one wearing a fleur de lis stamped collar. As much as I wanted to get out of here, as much as I wanted to run I didn't want to risk more than I already had getting out of that truck, "I'll stay with Norway. Eritrea's younger than me so it's less likely that people will recognize her as a nation. And she doesn't have this." I touched the cold metal around my neck.

Iceland opened his mouth to object but Norway cut him off, "She has a point. Take Rick and Gail with you and head out for the extraction point."

The younger of the two looked at the blonde nation. The look on his face... he didn't want to leave him with the fighting so close. Eritrea sobbed into my dress and I held her tight, drawing Iceland's gaze away from Norway. He looked at the little one in my arms and sighed, "Fine. But it's on you if she dies from that gash on her head."

I pried Eritrea's little fingers off me and knelt down in front of her. Forcing a smile on my face I hugged her and said, "You have to go with this man, okay?"

"But... but..." Eritrea sobbed into my shoulder, "I don't want to go, SeySey!"

It tore what was left of my heart to do this, but I had to make sure at least one of us would be safe and get out alive. I pulled away from her, the faux smile still on my face, "Let's play a game, Eri. You're playing hide and seek and Iceland's gonna help you hide, okay? And in a while, I'm gonna come find you."

"..." She looked at me, confused, "Hide and seek?" I nodded and turned her towards Iceland. She looked back at me and opened her mouth to say something else but froze. After a few seconds Eritrea gave a dejected "Okay" and took Iceland's outstretched hand. He knelt down and picked the girl up; she was to exhausted, too small, to make the trip for long without help. Then he, the child-nation, and the two men were gone and it was just myself, Norway, and the rest of them.

Everything was silent again. I took a spot next to the door and out of the way of the blackened-out window. I could hear the gunfire from the battle in the distance as my vision and concentration faded. Over the next ten minutes it grew louder and louder and came to be the only thing I could focus on. The fighting was coming towards us. I felt like someone had injected ice into my veins and I forced myself to stay awake, keeping my eyes open and body tense.

"Don't fall asleep," I jumped at the sound of Norway's voice. He hadn't spoken at all since Iceland left; just flickering his gaze between the walkie-talkie, the dark window, the door, and another door in the back that probably led further into this run-down house.

Just before the fighting reached us the walkie-talkie rang. Norway snatched it up, "How many did you get?" I tensed up and listened, leaning towards him in an effort to catch it all. I couldn't hear what the other guy was saying but worry flooded through me. Had the others gotten out alright? We had been running together for quite a while; a group of twelve African nations. Eight of us have been caught... what had happened to the other four? Rwanda, Libya, Zimbabwe, Kenya; where were they now? And Uganda, Ghana, Niger, Mauritania, Chad, Sudan; had they all made it out alright? I could feel a mix of adrenaline and worry course through my veins as I thought about my comrades with my eyes trained on the blonde.

He eventually put down the walkie-talkie and looked at me, "We've managed to rescue four others."

So they didn't all make it out... "Wh-who?"

"Ghana, Niger, Mauritania, and Chad."

"Wh... what about Uganda and Sudan?" I asked, my voice taking a hysterical edge to it. He just shook his head and I felt more sobs rip themselves from me. Norway stood and walked up to me, laying a hand on my shoulder. He said nothing; he didn't have to. We both knew he was sorry.

The fighting was very close now. Norway turned to the others and made signals with his hands. They nodded and quietly made their way deeper into the house. Norway signaled for me to follow him and we started for the back. They knew this area better then me; it would have been stupid to stage an ambush in a place you didn't know. It wasn't long before we came to a backdoor that led into a dead yard. Bullets soared overhead but we hadn't been spotted yet. We kept low to the ground and moved and quietly as we could between the buildings. When I finally thought we might be home free I heard my name.

"Sesel!"

Every muscle in my body froze. Norway saw my hesitation and turned around. His eyes widened as he looked over my shoulder and Norway grabbed my hand, jerking me forward as we took off in a run. Soldiers opened fire behind us and I screamed, covering my head with my now mangled left arm.

"Don't hit the nations!" The bullets stopped and I sighed in relief. He didn't want us dead yet. We kept running and running because it was all I knew and the numbing was spreading and the blurriness had gotten worse and it _hurt_ and...

"Shit!" One of the soldiers swore when we came out on a street. The Alliance soldiers ahead of us stopped and my head shot up. A line of soldiers was ahead of us, led by Japan. I immediately turned around to run back in the other direction and saw a determined France leading another group of soldiers. Left, right, we were surrounded. I backed up, my body cold, and hit Norway. We all stood with our backs together, each looking for a way out and finding none.

"Sesel," I turned away when he spoke, refusing again to look at him. His voice made me feel things I didn't want to anymore. That I couldn't anymore, "Norway."

"France," Norway spoke in a monotone, face calm and collected.

I could see France hold his hand out towards me out of the corner of his eye, "Sesel, come here. Good thing I found you before you got hurt, mon chéri."

I stood stock still, not wanting to move towards him yet not run away. He spoke with the same voice and I felt on fire, torn between running for him and getting away.

"Sesel." He repeated that nickname for me and my eyes stung. Norway gently pushed me forward and I turned to look at him in surprise. He nodded and then I knew; at least one of us had to get out okay. I was too small a country to succumb to the Insanity unless exposed to it for a very long time. Norway could fall very quickly, but it wouldn't come to that. He was ready to go down fighting.

"Norway..." I just met him but felt like I had known him and Iceland forever. They had saved me; who knows how long I could have kept going before just collapsing? The blonde nation just shook his head with that stoic look on his face and I sighed. I forced another smile before turning to face France and looked him in the eyes.

At least Eritrea got out.

I walked towards him and reached out my own hand. The battle raged around us but for a split second I felt like it was just the two of us again. Just the two of us on that island from back then.

"Sesel?" France noticed me hesitate and his brow furrowed, "Mon chéri, what's wrong?"

"Francis..." My fists clenched and pulled them back before he could grab me, "No... French Empire. That's what you are now, right?" His eyes widened and the soldiers surrounding us cocked their guns. They pointed them right at me but France calmed them just by raising his hand.

"Sesel..."

"Don't call me that!" I yelled at him. Didn't he realize how much he had changed? All my anger, all my fear, came out in one out-pouring of pure emotion, "You're not France... you're not my Francis anymore! You're an imperialist who has helped in nearly destroying everything! The bombs, the war, for what? To unite the world under one banner and one religion? What about the time we spend together? What about that, wasn't that worth something to you? Your people turned you into this, dammit!" I slumped forward onto the hard cracked concrete, my hands slapping against the pavement. My body was racked with sobs, "I want..." I balled my hands into fists again and my vision blurred completely as tears poured down my cheeks, wetting the broken stone. "I want... I-I want my Francis back. Please..."

France knelt down in front of me and I looked up at him. He wiped my tears away with a small smile. It might have been my imagination but he looked regretful. Sad, almost. I shook my head and cried harder and the imperialist nation gathered me into his arms. I felt safe and secure, like when I was a little girl and he would hold me during a thunderstorm. "Sesel..." His voice was low as he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, "You know I can't go against the will of my people. Je n'ai pas le choix, ma chérie."

"Fran-"

There was screams and I heard the distinct sound of something large and metallic plowing through many small flesh bodies. I came back to my senses and threw myself away from France. Three trucks skidded to a stop in front of me and a white-gloved hand shot out of the back. I grabbed it immediately and was hoisted into the truck, followed by Norway and the others. I was breathing heavily as the trucks took off and fell over. Exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Seychelles?" Iceland was by my side with Eritrea as my consciousness left me. Everything hit me all at once; all the pain, all the hurt. My head and wrist erupted in the pain I had been trying to ignore. The truck was spinning and there was ringing in my ears. They continued to call out for me but all I wanted to do was _sleep_. Just sleep and stay in my dreams of the past.

Dreams of a little island.

Dreams of how much fun we all used to have.

Dreams of a blonde with ocean-blue eyes, the last thing I saw before letting the darkness take me.

* * *

**Author's note:** The part from the beginning is from the shipwrecked strip, where England and America are shipwrecked on an island that is later revealed to be Seychelles. France and Seychelles herself make an appearance in the strip too. I like this one too; we get a glimpse at the end that not everything might be right about the Insanity. 8D

**Translation:**

**French:**

Mon chéri – my darling

Je n'ai pas le choix, ma chérie – I have no choice, my darling


	3. But I Will Find You

**Disclaimer:**Hetalia: Not mine. You know this, I know this, the lawyers know this.

* * *

Chapter Three

**But I Will Find You**

_Abandon all hopes of utopia - there are people involved._

_Clayton Cramer

* * *

_

Everything was bright when I woke up. All white and so bright it hurt my eyes. They weren't used to it; I had lived in the darkness for so long, running during the night and sleeping during the day. Running... it's all I am good at anymore. It's all I needed to be good at.

The room itself, besides the blinding white, frightened me. Tubes were attached to one of my wrists while the other arm was bandaged completely. A brace encased my left wrist; it was hurt worse than I thought. The steady beeping of machines to my left and right would have lulled me into sleep had I not been so wired and confused. Where was I? Where was Eritrea? France? Iceland, Norway, anyone? I remembered being pulled into a truck, but after that nothing. My dress was gone, replaced by a white patients' gown (the collar was still there). It had been a long time since I had been in a room like this one. A long time since I had been _clean_.

I reached down the pull the IV needle from my skin, a sudden feeling of claustrophobia enveloping me. There was nowhere to hide here; if someone came in and tried to take me away I couldn't run. I needed to get out of here, needed to run away from everything. The lights were so bright, everything so white. My breath came out in sharp gasps as I tore at the wires connected to me. I couldn't breathe, hyperventilating as I tried to crawl from the bed. With a scream I stumbled to the clean tile floor. Pain erupted through my body and another piercing yell escaped me.

A door was thrown open somewhere and with a "Jesus!" I was pulled up and put back into the bed. I fought, thrashing around and screaming at the top of my lungs. I had to get out, had to run. There were hands on me, holding my wrists and ankles to the exposing white sheets. Someone held my head as I writhed and fought, adrenaline coursing through me again so the pain abated.

Run.

Run.

Ru-

"Seychelles!" Came a new voice as another pair of hands descended to hold me still, "Calm down, dammit!" The sound made me freeze, hyperventilating as my eyes darted around trying to find the owner. Blonde hair, bushy eyebrows...

"Ig... gy?" I choked.

He smiled sadly, looking more aged than I had ever seen him, "Yeah, Sey."

"Iggy... Iggy..." My chest moved like a running jackrabbit. Eyes bulging I ripped myself from my captor's grasp and grabbed England's collar, "Eritrea, Iggy! Where's Eri? Uganda... Sudan, did you get them? France... Francis, he took them. He took them! I have to go... go and get them back!" He just watched me, face turning a sick gray as I jumped away and curled up on the bed, "No no no – I have to run. Run away, run away and hide. It's all I can do! Run! Run! RUN!" Yes. That was right. Run. Run away, far away.

I launched from that cursed bed and darted for the door. The others in the room, blurs of those I should know but was too broken to care, were on me immediately. Hands circled around me, pulling me back deeper into the hellish light. I couldn't run, couldn't hide.

But I had to. If I didn't run, how could I survive?

I screamed when something was jammed into my neck. Lethargy consumed me, eating away at my resistance as I was lowered back onto the bed. I didn't want to sleep; why were they making me sleep? I had to run, not sleep. Sleep was a waste of time when the Empire was so close. I couldn't get caught; I didn't want to know what would happen if I did. Scared, I was so scared.

"Wh... why...?" As my eyes closed, I looked up at the Englishman. He just looked away, a grimace on his face. Vision blurred. Colors blended. Don't sleep. Run. Hide. Sleep.

"_Sommeil, Sesel."_

Okay, Francis. I guess a little sleep was alright. I can run later, can't I?

"_Bien sûr, ma chérie."_

A small smile graced my lips as everything faded, "Gran mersi."

_This place was so big and weird. I had never been to a world meeting before, but France wanted me to come so I did. "All the nations come, Sesel," he had told me. Were there really this many of us? I felt so small next to England and America and everyone else; I hadn't realized how big and powerful they were. They had always been my friends from World Academy W, after all._

"_Attention, attention," America called for order, shouting over the voices of others, "First on today's agenda is... Uganda, how is it going over there?"_

"_Good, sir," One of the nations to my right said. I jumped at the voice and turned to see a tall, dark-skinned man with a rather grim expression, "Last week my people have started to rebuild that had burned down." Oh right, Uganda. The most recent to recover from the Insanity._

"_Okay, then next is-"_

"_Why don't you get your men out of my country, America?" A man a little ways from me crossed his arms, speaking in a heavy Middle Eastern accent._

_This threw my friend off for a second but he quickly collected himself, "Iran, you and I both know I can't yet. My people have just recently pulled out of Iraq, so-"_

"_While you're over there, my brother and I still need help," My head swerved around to see another man, his nameplate identifying him as Haiti, "Our country, especially mine, is still in rubble America."_

"_I know that, but-"_

_The room erupted into chaos, with nations making demands and talking over one another. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked around for an escape. After quietly excusing myself (quiet enough no one actually heard, most likely), I made my way out of the room into the hall. Once free of the chaos I breathed a sigh of relief, sitting down on a nearby bench and closing my eyes. If being a big nation like that meant I would have to fight and squabble with everyone else then I never wanted to get more land._

"_Mon chéri."_

_My head shot up and brown eyes met blue. France was leaning over in front of me, his blonde hair falling loosely about his face. I smiled a bit, looking away from the bigger nation._

"_Why did you leave, Sesel?" He asked, sitting down next to me and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. _

_I sighed, leaning into his chest and closing my eyes, "Is it always like this, Francis-nii?"_

"_Like what?"_

_I looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, "Everyone fighting and stuff."_

_He just chuckled and shook his head. We sat in silence for a bit and I moved back to lean against the Frenchman. After a few minutes, when the sound from inside the chamber had quieted, the blonde helped me up, "Let's go back inside, Sesel."_

"_Will they fight more?" I asked, hesitating before the large double doors._

_France nodded, "Probably. You get used to it after a while." He looked like he wanted to say something else, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. After a few seconds he just gave a heavy sigh looked up at the ceiling, "Sometimes I think it would be better if we were all just together with no conflict, you know? Everyone united with the same beliefs."_

_I felt something cold in the pit of my stomach but nodded anyway. He led me back inside but I couldn't shake the feeling that what just happened was significant somehow. What was it...?_

_Oh right, the first signs of Insanity._

"Francis!" I jumped right up. Tubes tugging at my arms brought me crashing back to reality. I was still in the white room and I could feel a bubble of panic rise in me again. My breath quickened; eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. I had to... had to...

"Calm down Seychelles," I whipped around to see England leaning against the door, "We've only got so much medication to put you under with. Strapped with the war and all."

"Iggy!" My eyes widened and I tried to jump off the bed to hug him, a feeling of pure relief washing over me. I was safe again.

He chuckled and gently pushed me back down on to the bed, "Shh; don't want you to bang yourself up anymore, okay?"

I looked down at the brace on my left hand. My eyes traveled from it up to the bandages and I placed a feather-light touch on the ones around my head. I was hurt worse than I thought.

"Bruised ribs, sprained wrist, cuts and lacerations, concussion, and two broken fingers," England rang off my injuries like they were a grocery list. My face took on a green tinge and I winced.

"... Eritrea?" I was almost afraid to ask what had happened to the younger nation.

He smiled, "She's fine; just a few scraps and bruises. She's playing with Wy and Sealand right now; Norway's watching them."

"That's good..."

There was an uncomfortable silence between us. I wanted to ask the questions that plagued my mind but was scared the know the answers. How many had faded away? What about Italy and Germany? Japan had become Insane, but what about my other friends? And Eritrea... she was young, but the country was technically bigger than me. Could she become Insane like the rest of them?

Is there anyway to save France?

"I don't know," I jumped when England spoke, shaking his head. Apparently I had said the last question out loud, "None of us really do. It's been so long since one of us have gone _this_ Insane. Most of us who've gone into Insanity can't even remember most of it. Russia's still a little Insane – probably always will be – and Germany... well, he..."

"What about Ludwig?" I asked, feeling that little panicky bubble growing in my chest again.

He sighed, "... we still haven't found him yet. Missing since the bombs dropped." I cried out and buried my head in my knees, balling up into a little cocoon. Germany was missing. If they hadn't found such a large nation yet, especially he went missing _after_ the nuclear bombs fell...

I shuddered and looked up, a few rogue tears spilling out, "What about Italy? China? America?"

"Italy's outside," England nodded towards the door behind him, "I wanted to make sure you wouldn't lose it again before letting him in. You know how... _eccentric_ he can be." We both laughed, though neither found anything really funny; "China's part of Fran..." England's hands balled up into fists and he closed his eyes for a second. With a heavy sigh he opened them and finished, "... part of the French Empire. America... well, he's got his own problems right now."

"What do you mean?"

England walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, "Alfred's a fighter. Always has been."

"Iggy..." I grabbed his jacket before he could get too far away, "Arthur." He turned his head towards me but wouldn't look me in the eyes. Concern filled me, "What's happening on the other side of the ocean?"

"..." England's face was torn. He looked like he was in so much pain... "Canada was captured and joined France two months ago. The entirety of South America is part of the Empire. France has five states, including Texas, under occupation. Mexico is a a warzone and Cuba fell to France. Haiti and the Dominican Republic too. America's the last one left on both western continents but the _goddamn moron_-" England punched the door, shoulders hunched and expression one of pure anguish, "- won't abandon the place."

"Iggy... can you really blame him?" I muttered, letting go of him and looking away.

The two of us were still for a few more seconds until he opened the door and walked in, muttering something to someone outside.

"Seychelles! Grazie a Dio sei vivo!" There was a sharp pain in my arm and I yelped when a brown haired man with a familiar curl pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, "Ero così preoccupata!"

"H-hi Feliciano..." I winced, pulling back from the man as he nuzzled the top of my head, "Uhh... Italy, that hurts."

"Aie! Sorry, Sey!" He jumped away from me and the Italian waved his hands frantically in front of him, "I didn't mean it. Did I hurt you? Waaa... I didn't break anything, did I?" Italy looked like he was about to cry so I quickly shook my head.

"No, no, I'm fine." I chuckled while thinking in my head _'He'll never change at all, will he?'_ "How are you, Feliciano?"

"Eh... alright I guess," his mood dropped completely and the usually clueless and bubbly nation looked deflated, "Still haven't found Germania yet though..."

"I'm sure you'll find him soon," I tried to reassure the nation, leaning forward despite the pain in my chest to pat his shoulder.

"Yeah..." He looked down at his hands, fiddling around with his fingers, "I guess... we still haven't checked Berlin yet."

I raised an eyebrow at this. They hadn't even checked the capitol of the country? "Why not?"

This threw the older nation. Italy tilted his head and gave me a look, "England didn't tell you?" When I shook my head he sighed, "That area is crawling with French Empire troops. France is heading there next to find him. England says we can't... can't _risk it_ right now."

Can't risk it. Play it safe. Run away and hide; fight from the shadows. How many times had I heard this since everything started? There were few heroes in war; when it came down to it, sacrifices had to be made.

No.

Not again.

"We'll find him," I swore, grabbing Italy's hand with as much determination as my mustered body could, "Together."

It took a few more days before I could leave the medical ward. We were in the capitol of Denmark, Copenhagen. We weren't even that _far_ from Berlin and all the fighting. I had been out for about four days. Apparently I had actually woken up a few times but kept having panic attacks. I couldn't remember that. I couldn't remember much of anything, really.

Eritrea was fine; she made friends with Sealand easily and the two were never seen without each other. They weren't too far in age, either; Eritrea looked ten while Sealand twelve.

England and Italy were doing a lot of planning with Norway and Iceland. Talked about what to do next, how to win the next battle.

What to do with us.

A few days after I was released and all that was left of my injuries was a brace on my left hand and my middle and pointer fingers taped together Iceland came and took me to the others. I had a dress identical to my old teal-blue one; England apparently had a couple 'leftover' from when I was his colony. Lucky, I guess. The collar didn't want to come off though...

They all sat around a small table facing me. Iceland sat down and all eyes were on me. I froze.

"Sit down Seychelles," England said. His face was serious and grim. I did as he asked, feeling my palms start to sweat.

"We've decided that the smaller and younger nations will head to Umee in Sweden; the bigger ones get the choice to stay or go," Iceland said.

"Is... is it safe?" I asked.

They looked at each other as if they would communicate telepathically. Norway finally broke the silence when he sighed, "As safe as anywhere else at the moment."

That was good enough for me. Maybe I could finally get some rest, finally forget everything that's happened. Maybe I could even pretend that France was just away and everything would go back to normal.

"We wanted to give you the choice, even though you're a small nation, of whether or not you wanted to-"

I cut England off, "I'll go." I could escape all this fighting, all this bloodshed. At least for a while. Who could pass that up?

The four of them nodded and I was ushered out. The next nation – Chad – went in and it continued until all the gathered nations who had been given a choice had their say. I found Eritrea playing with Sealand in another room and sat down next to them.

"What'd they want?" The blonde boy asked.

"We're... going on another trip," I said. They both gave me looks that verged on fear so I quickly amended, "An adventure, I mean."

"Really?" Eritrea's eyes brightened, "Where're we going, SeySey?"

"Across the water to Sweden," I said, "He's going to take care of us."

"No more fighting?"

"No more fighting."

Sealand's eyebrows – so much like his brother's – drew down, "We're going to see Berwald? What about Arthur?"

I hesitated. The young micro-nation may act like he hates his brother but I could see concern in his eyes, "Igg... England's going to stay."

"Then I will too!" He declared, "I'll take down the French Empire and Jerk England will finally have to bow down to me!"

I chuckled and looked away so they wouldn't see the pain in my eyes. A hand fell on my shoulder and I jumped, swerving around to see Iceland standing over me.

"The boat leaves soon," he said. I nodded and took Eritrea's hand. Sealands followed after, talking about how he was going to take down the 'evil Empire' and finally show his brother 'who's boss'. With each word about France I felt like a dagger was embedding itself in my chest. He wasn't evil. France wasn't the bad man everyone thought him to be. It was what he had become – the French Empire – that was doing everything. France, the French Empire. Two different people in the same person.

After a short truck ride we were at a large pier with a small ship. Mauritania was there, along with Armenia and Ghana. All the other micro-nations and smaller nations, such as Wy and Seborga, were there as well. Some had luggage, some had nothing.

"Come on," I ushered Eritrea forward so the man by the boarding ramp could mark off her name.

"I can't go you know; I've gotta stay so people'll recognize me as a real nation!" Sealand protested when the man marked off his name. He didn't resist as some soldiers led him onto the ship. Mauritania was on next, followed by Ghana. Then went Armenia and all the others. Last was Eritrea and I.

"Seychelles?" The man asked me. I nodded and he marked me off. We walked up the ramp and once secure it was taken away. I could see Iceland on the shore, watching as the ship kicked the life.

My legs felt oddly heavy. I held onto the railing of the ship for support, my eyes trained on his. I bit my lip as I felt something I stir inside me. I was getting away. Finally I would be free again; free from all the running and all the hiding.

But wasn't that exactly what I was doing?

Running away to Sweden, hiding from France?

Why? Why was I running? Italy had stayed. Chad had stayed. England, Iceland, Norway; they had all stayed to fight. They were fighting France and the others; fighting their own friends. How much did that have to hurt?

They fought so we might all have a free future.

"_Run, Seychelles."_

"No."

Eritrea looked up at me, tilting her head to the side, "SeySey?"

I knelt down next to her, "Eri, stay with Sealand, okay?"

"Okay, but-"

I climbed up onto the railing, acutely aware of the shouts and yells of the soldiers and nations around me. I could just barely see Iceland run for the pier. I closed me eyes and took a deep breath.

Forever after this I would swear, as I launched myself off the ship into the freezing water, that I heard a voice.

"C'est ma fille. I've found you."

Then everything was colored red with fire.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yay, it's the next part! And I got my first review! Huzzah! Just so you all know, I'm translating using the google translator tool xD;;; Except for the Creole because they only have Haitian Creole and Seselwa is so damn hard to find. I actually have to spend time googling and looking for phrases to use for it. Also, I know there's a "Germania", but when I put it into the translator from English to Italian that's what it came out as xD. Reviews welcome, ridicule and slander is evil, and readers make me happy! Thanks everyone.

**Translation**

**French:**

Sommeil, Sesel – Sleep, Sesel

Bien sûr, ma chérie – Of course, my darling

Mon chéri – my darling

C'est ma fille – That's my girl

**Seselwa/Seychellois Creole:**

Gran mersi – Thank you

**Italian:**

Seychelles! Grazie a Dio sei vivo! - Seychelles! Thank God you're alive!

Ero così preoccupata! - I was so worried!

Germania - Germany


	4. Your Innocence

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Derp.

* * *

Chapter Four

**Your Innocence**

"_Innocence is the weakest defense. Innocence has a single voice that can only say over and over again, "I didn't do it." Guilt has a thousand voices, all of them lies."_

_-LEONARD F. PELTIER, Prison Writings

* * *

_

I came up for air and everything was crimson.

Screams came from the mainland as I pulled myself onto the shore. The ship behind me was nearly out of view already, probably having sped up when the first bomb hit. Iceland raced to me and pulled up body up.

"What the _hell_ were you _thinking_?"

"Wh... what's going on?" I shouted over the scrambling soldiers, running to protect their people and figure out just _what in Gods name was going on_. Iceland dove under the pier, dragging me along with him, just as another bomb blew up a building behind us.

"I don't know," He panted, shaking his head as he helped me up, "Happened out of nowhere."

My instincts from years of running kicked in and I took off. Iceland yelled for me to wait, but I threw a look over my shoulder I saw him running with me. Good. I jumped into the nearest truck almost cried from relief when I found the key still in the ignition. Iceland wrenched the door open on the other side and slid in as the car roared to life. He fumbled with the seatbelt and I jerked the key until the metal beast roared to life. I wasn't thinking; adrenaline pumped through my system as I slammed the gas.

The truck shot forward and I yanked the steering wheel left, nearly sending it into a spin. Iceland jumped and slammed into my side when I jerked the truck right to avoid English forces running for shelter.

"Slow í fjandanum niður! Þú munt fá okkur bæði drepin!" He cursed, grabbing anything solid in the truck to brace himself, "Have you ever driven a car before?"

"No," I could see his face pale out of the corner of my eye, "I didn't need a car back home and Francis always drove me when I was visiting." My eyes widened when someone darted across the street. I jerked left, narrowly avoiding the poor girl. Iceland reached over to take the wheel from me, but I batted him away, "I can do it. Just tell me how to get back."

"Why?" Iceland braced himself when I jerked the truck again to dodge another soldier, "If they've gotten here, chances are Copenhagen's a battle ground."

"Which is why we're-" I slammed the brakes when the road exploded a ways in front of us. We were both thrown forward and I slammed into the steering wheel.

"Seychelles!" Iceland leaned across the car, peeling me away from the wheel.

I was seeing red, groaning from the effort of keeping myself conscious and only vaguely aware of the warmth trickling down the side of my head. I couldn't tell what Iceland was doing; there was the sound of the trunk door slamming, then the one by me opening. It was only when I felt myself behind moved that I realized we were switching seats.

"Put your seatbelt on this time," He ordered. Iceland hit the gas and we were off again. I sluggishly pulled myself into the seat proper and put on my seatbelt. There were explosions everywhere as Alliance troops struggled to gain the upper hand. The French Empire hadn't landed yet so there were no troops. I ignored the throbbing in my head and the cut above my left eye so I could scan the city. I could see the planes above, attacking anything and everything in the city. The Alliance was fighting mostly at the pier, where they at least had weapons. Civilians ran for shelter, dashing between buildings and across the street.

We drove in the opposite direction, out of the heart of the fighting. After my headache cleared a bit I paid closer attention to the sky. Planes zoomed by; some of the Alliance managed to get into their own planes and a dogfight brewed above. I could barely make out the French Empire flag on the sides of the slightly lighter planes. Same as France's, yet in the center was a heavily stylized red rose with a fleur de lis over it.

I touched the collar on my neck and felt tears fall from my eyes. The metal felt a bit too warm to the touch. It might have been the head wound, but it felt almost like it was _buzzing_.

My eyes widened and I pulled down the mirror on the truck and flipped the flap. Iceland's gaze flickered to me before he swerved the truck out of the path of one of the Empire's planes. I held onto the truck, thankful for having my seatbelt on this time.

"What's wrong?" Iceland said, eyes on the destroyed road now. We were almost out of most of the city and on our way back to Copenhagen.

I shook my head, going back to examining my collar. It didn't look too much different, yet… "The collar… the one Francis gave me. It's warm and I think… buzzing."

His bright eyes flickered to me again before taking a sharp right out of the city, "Warm and buzzing? Can you hear anything?"

"Uhh…" I listened, trying to tune out the sounds of carnage behind us. I couldn't hear anything, so I shook my head.

Then… "Mon Sesel chérie…"

My blood turned to ice and I fell limp in the car seat. The sounds outside were drowned out by that small phrase. It explained how I heard everything before. Explained how he knew where I was.

There was a microphone and possibly some kind of GPS in the collar.

"Non…" My hand flew to my mouth. The entire time he could have been listening. Listening to my talks with Italy and England…

Learning the location of us countries.

Learning where Eritrea was.

"Oh god…"

"Close; try Francis, poissons stupides," The voice – his voice – made the collar vibrate. It was very quiet and I shook Iceland to get him to pay attention. We managed to get out of the town unscathed and were driving the dilapidated and crumbling streets to Copenhagen.

"Francis…" My voice was breathy; I couldn't seem to draw in enough air. My throat felt tight and my body numb. I wanted him to go away, to just _leave me alone._ Yet somewhere, deep inside – passed the all-consuming fear and anger – a part of me wanted to hear his voice more. I wanted to push him away and run, but at the same time curl up in his arms like when I was a kid. Why did he make me feel this way? Did he even _know_ how much it _hurt_?

"Sesel, vous s'enfuit à nouveau; je suis venu vous chercher," My face screwed up when he spoke, fresh tears mixing with the blood on my cheeks, "You don't… to run… take care of you." The last bit was full of static, like we were getting out of range.

"Don't listen to him, Sesel," Iceland warned, gritting his teeth and sliding a cool mask over his features. He kept his eyes glued to the road but I could see his hands grip the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

I wanted to say that France was cutting out so there wasn't much to hear, but the words wouldn't come. I lost my voice; all that came out was torn sobs that wracked my torso.

"If… won't come…" I could almost hear the smile in his voice and it scared me. I was always scared these days… "I'll come… you."

That was it. I wailed, throwing myself forward and fisting my hands through my hair. The truck jerked when Iceland flinched. France kept whispering disjointed words in my ear and I kept shaking my head furiously.

Would he just stop? What sick obsession did he have with this torture?

France took my home.

He stole my heart.

Now he wanted everything else.

The voice got stronger as we neared the base on the other side of Copenhagen. The stronger it got, the louder the fighting around us. French Empire troops had touched down here, and I could hear the Alliance holding them back in the distance.

"Vous nous rapprochons…" I shivered at France's voice, "Should I come get you, Sesel?"

"Non!" I yelled, smacking the dashboard of the truck.

"Seychelles, calm down," Iceland hissed.

"Get it off!" I ripped at the solid collar around my neck, vision blurred from tears. It needed to come off. I had to get it off me, had to get it off. As long as it was there, he would find me. As long as I had it on, I couldn't hide.

But wait…

Wasn't that what I wanted?

I froze as Iceland pulled up to the large stone headquarters of the Alliance. The French Empire hadn't reached it yet, but the dogfight had moved to this part of town. Almost as if it followed us.

Iceland opened the car door, but didn't get out when he saw I wasn't moving, "Seychelles?"

"I'm done," My voice was a dead monotone. I looked up with a thousand-yard stare, face blank.

"Sey-"

"I'm done running," I opened the car door and stepped out, calm despite the noise around me. That was why I jumped off the boat. I was fed up with it all. If France wanted me… "Come and get me."

I could hear France laugh before he fell silent. Iceland made his way around the truck and took me inside. I felt numb all over, yet for once sure. Soldiers ran about inside, scrambling to get ready and head for the front lines. I yelped when a bomb was dropped close by, making the whole building shake, and stumbled forward. I just barely managed to catch myself before slamming into a wall.

"Seychelles!" England ran down the hall, Italy hot on his heels. The brunette nation dashed passed the blonde and crushed me in a bear hug.

"Sey!" He swung me around, "Sey, I was so worried!"

"Fe… Feliciano…" Pain erupted in my head and I choked. Italy jumped away from me and smiled with apology. When he finally got a look at the wound on my head and the dried blood smeared all over the left side of my face, the smile was cut away.

"Seychelles… oh my god, Sey…" He held me close – gently this time – in order to get a good look at the wound. Behind him, Iceland was telling England what happened.

"France has been gathering intel through the collar on Seychelles," He explained to the stunned blonde nation.

England pushed the concerned Italy away from me and stared at the metal around my neck. He seemed at a loss for words, and after a moment managed to tear his eyes from the collar to look at me, "Seychelles, can I…?" He gestured to my neck and I nodded, tilting my head to the side.

"Iggy!" Italy protested.

"We need to treat her head," Iceland reached for me, but England brushed him away.

"The quicker we get this thing off her, the better for all of us," He glared at the other two nations before smiling down at me. England reached for the collar…

"I wouldn't touch it if I were you, Arthur," The four of us froze, "You've already pissed me off enough, Anglais fous."

England gritted his teeth and his hands balled into fists. He grabbed my hand and whipped around, dragging me down the hallway and into a more secluded room that lacked the constant rushing of soldiers. Italy and Iceland rushed in after us, the former looking concerned while the latter bordering on angry. England sat me down in a chair and started to pace.

"England, we need to treat that cut," Iceland stepped right up to the blonde, staring him down.

"Then go get bandages and treat it!" England shouted at the silver-haired Nordic, stunning him.

"I… I'll go!" Italy offered, raising his hand. The other two stared at the brunette, whose hand slowly lowered and he's gaze shifted awkwardly.

"Fine; but hurry up," The moment England spoke, Italy dashed out the door.

Things fell silent between us. England looked over the collar, ignoring the death glare from Iceland behind him. I flinched at his touch, then felt cold when France's chuckle could be heard from the collar.

"You won't get it off, stupide Angleterre," He said between laughs.

"Why not, bastard?" England said through clenched teeth, concentrating on the collar. It seemed to be smooth all around, save for a joint on one side and the locked clasp on the other. I flinched when he flipped out a knife from his uniform and tried to use it to pry the lock open.

"You could not when she was being looked over by your doctors," France said, "I had it made to never come off unless-"

I sucked in a sharp breath and doubled over, England's knife popped the lock and nicking my neck. It fell from my neck, and my hand flew to the cut. It wasn't deep, but it hurt a lot. England made sure I was okay before leaning over to pick up the collar, examining the cold metal.

"You never were good at making things effective, France," England chuckled mirthlessly. Iceland pushed passed him to look over the cut on my neck and Italy dashed back in with a medical kit.

"I tried to find a doctor, but they're all busy at the front, and…" He fell silent, eyes darting between me holding my neck and England with the collar. Italy's eyes brightened, "You got it off!"

"Got her neck with a knife doing it," Iceland muttered, moving my hand away from my neck. I could see Italy pale and he rushed to my side, taking all manner of gauze and ointments out of the med kit. He started with my neck while Iceland backed off. My eyes were on the collar.

"I… see you did get it off," France's voice faltered from his surprise, "Might I ask how?"

"Snapped the lock," England muttered, fumbling with tiny screws in the interior of the collar. He used the knife to carefully take them out, popping parts of the metal inside the collar off. I stretched my neck to get a better look at the mess of electronic wires inside it.

"Hold still," Italy whined.

"Snapped it? While she wore it?" I raised an eyebrow at the concerned tone in France's voice, feeling something welling up inside me. My vision blurred again, "Did you hurt her?"

"Not that you give a fuck," England cursed, fiddling with the wires. He used the knife to pop out one chip, handing it to Iceland, muttering, "It's a GPS chip."

The silver-haired Nordic nodded and dropped the chip before smashing it under his boots. He looked up at England, eyes drifting to the wires still inside the collar, "We need to get rid of the microphone."

"Wait," England raised a hand, "France… Francis."

"Oui?"

"We didn't find a collar like this on any of the other African nations we rescued," He said, "Why Seychelles?"

"To lead me to you, of course," I paled and Italy started bandaging the cut above my eye, hesitating for a second as France spoke, "I wasn't sure about the other African nations, but _no one_-" I flinched "-knows Sesel better than I. She was looking for you." He was right. First I tried to find Italy and Japan, but the latter was already part of the French Empire. So I had been running, trying to find my ex-master, to hide. France really did know me too well.

And so I started to cry again.

"Ah! Seyche, per favore smettila di piangere!" Italy put a firm and on my shoulder and leaned down with concern written all over his face. He took some of the gauze and wiped away my tears, "He's not worth it, Sey." Italy gave me a small smile before going back to working on the cut.

"You used her… to find our base?" England's voice wavered, mirroring how I felt. I had put everyone in danger without knowing it; every word that I or anyone else around me had said, he had heard. Every word…

"It worked out well, don't you think?" He chuckled, sending a shiver down my spine. We all fell silent, and in the distance I could hear gunfire. Gunfire I caused, "Venez, Sesel. Nous pouvons être à nouveau une famille, mon-"

I leapt off the chair and lunged for the collar, tearing it out of England's hands. The others moved to stop me, but I shouted at the collar, "Je ne suis pas votre propriété!" and ripped the wires clean out, tearing away at the inside of the collar until it was empty. Breathing heavily, I fell to the ground, head in my hands, "You don't own me anymore, Francis…"

"Seychelles…" England and Iceland knelt in front of me while Italy pulled my hands away from my tear-streaked face to finish applying the bandage.

"He doesn't own me," I muttered, choking on my own tears, "I'm not his colony anymore."

Italy finished the bandage and put the medical supplies away. Iceland helped me up and England picked up the ruined wires. The door slammed open and we all whipped around to see Norway.

"The French troops have withdrawn for the… night," He said, trailing off when he saw me. Norway shot both Iceland and England a look, and the silver-haired nation sighed.

"She jumped off the boat and came back," Iceland tilted his head in my direction.

Norway looked down at me and I gulped, "Why?"

"I… uhh…" The other's turned to look at me as well, the same question in their eyes. I looked down at my feet, fiddling with my fingers. After a noisy gulp, I looked back up, "I'm tired of running."

Norway stared down at me for a moment before smiling. He turned to Iceland, "We need to figure out what to do. The majority of the French Empire is engaged with Russia or America, so the force here is not large. However, we weren't expecting the attack."

"What are our losses?" England's eyes flicked back to me and I cringed.

"Your men took the brunt of it," Norway led us out and down the hall, passing soldiers and a few other countries. I could see a few with injuries being dragged along. Moans and screams of pain… but the gunfire and explosions had ceased. Seeing the aftermath, I couldn't help but think everything was my fault. I felt terrible, my eyes downcast as I tried to block out what was going on around me.

"Seychelles," I jumped and turned to see the others going into the room from the other day. Iceland and Italy looked at me with concern, the former holding his hand out for me. I looked away and sighed for a second before taking Iceland's hand, letting the two nations lead me inside. A few others were there, seated around a large table. England patted the seat next to him, and I sat down with my gaze locked on my hands. Iceland sat to my right, and Italy across from me with Norway on the other side of England.

"We have to retreat," Scotland said from the other end of the table.

"Why?" Iceland crossed his arms, "France may have found us here, but the French Empire's forces are concentrated at Russia, America, and finding Germany at the moment."

"That doesn't-"

"If France gets through us, then they have a doorway into Denmark and Sweden," England said, "_That_ is something we can't afford to let happen. We hold our ground here."

"I agree with England," Italy said; Norway nodded in agreement with him.

Scotland shook his head, leaning forward on the table, "And how did they know _exactly_ where to find us, Italy? Did you tell them?"

"Scotla-" England jumped up.

I cut him off, adding quietly, "It's my fault."

England blinked and looked down at me, his mouth open slightly. Iceland gave me a pointed look, while Italy sighed and Norway looked shocked. The other European nations and my African brethren turned to me with mixes of shock and anger.

"You sold us out?" Scotland jumped up, slamming his fists against the table.

My eyes widened and I shook my head in a fury, "N-non, I… I-!"

As the others started whispering to themselves, England attempted to bring order. When all else failed, he took out the empty collar and slammed it against the table. I shivered and there was silence in the room.

"The French Empire put a GPS tracker and a microphone inside Seychelles collar in order to lead them here," he explained, "She did _not_ know it was there, and did _not_ betray us Scotland."

"How do you know that?" The other nation argued, "How do you know she's not a French spy?"

"I am not-" my voice was drowned out by an uproar in the room. Flashes of the few world meetings I had been to came to mind… like that one with France.

I quietly excused myself and hurried out, feeling the concerned eyes of Italy and Iceland on my back. England had his hands full trying to keep order. Some wanted to get rid of me, some wanted to interrogate me. My African friends were on my side, but as usual the Europeans didn't pay much attention to them.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, sliding down the wall outside the meeting room. My hair was down; I only had one of France's ribbons left at this point, and even then it was a faded grayish-red at this point.

I buried my head in my knees and wrapped my arms around myself. A small part of me regretted jumping off the ship to Denmark, but if I hadn't… France would have known exactly where the others were. Now that England knew France heard everything, he could get in contact with Denmark and move them. At lease… at least they would be safe, so long as I wasn't there.

Maybe if I ran away far enough he wouldn't find me. There wasn't a tracker anymore, so maybe…

"No…" I muttered, shaking my head. I was done running. Tired of it. There was no more running for me. I was going to stand and fight. I stood slowly, a smile on my face. The best place to start would be finding Germany, with or without England's consent.

Iceland was in the doorway, looking down at me with an eyebrow raised. "They've decided to stay and keep you here. If France is after you, moving you to Denmark now would only put the others in danger," he said, closing the door behind him. Iceland shook his head, a mirthless chuckle on his face, "I know why you left; I would have too."

"I don't like all the noise," I said, looking away from him down the hall.

He nodded, "England, Norway and Italy have a bit more to discuss. You need some rest; come on." Iceland gestured down the hall and strode down it. I nodded, following along behind him.

I looked around; at the soldiers, a few countries who weren't in the meeting. At the weapons and the injured; the carnage outside the windows. I was innocent to all this; running for so long, I had not seen battle and bloodshed like this. France and England had always shielded me from it before now. I didn't understand at the time just how innocent to the world I was, but looking around the Alliance base at all the soldiers and all the bloodshed, remembering the battle from before, I knew.

This is war.

France was the enemy.

And I was going to fight him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry it took so long! College and stuff. Thank my girlfriend, who cosplays the France to my Seychelles, for getting me off my butt for this chapter xD;;; Also, I know that "Non" is both French and Seselwa for "No", but I listed it as Seselwa because the first one to say it (in this chapter at least) was Seychelles. ^^

**Translations**

**Icelandic**

Slow í fjandanum niður! Þú munt fá okkur bæði drepin! – Slow the fuck down! You'll get us both killed!

**French**

Mon Sesel chérie… - My darling Sesel…

poissons stupides – silly fish

Sesel, vous s'enfuit à nouveau; je suis venu vous chercher. – Sesel, you ran away again; I've come to get you.

Vous nous rapprochons… - You're getting closer…

Anglais fous – damn Englishman

stupide Angleterre – stupid England

Oui – Yes

Venez, Sesel. Nous pouvons être à nouveau une famille, mon- – Come, Sesel. We can be a family again, my-

Je ne suis pas votre propriété! – I am not your property!

**Seselwa (Seychellois Kreole)**

Non… – No…

**Italian**

Ah! Seyche, per favore smettila di piangere! – Ah! Seyche, please stop crying!


	5. Drives Me Crazy

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine but the crappy poem that makes up chapter titles.

* * *

Chapter Five

**Drives Me Crazy**

_To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. To not dare is to lose oneself. _

_~Soren Kierkegaard

* * *

_

The next day, countries on Scotland's side glared at me when they didn't think I was looking. When I tried to tell England that I was going to find Germany, he shot me down.

"France is looking for you, Seychelles," he looked up from his map, studying me with emerald eyes, "You leave, and he _will_ find you."

"But Ludwig needs help!" I argued, hands balling into fists.

"Germany can take care of himself," The blonde shook his head, "I can't afford to send anyone with you. Everything between France, here, and Russia is a nuclear no-man's-land; all that's left is the dead, the dying, and the French Empire. Russia is barely able to keep his borders, America is falling, and the last safe haven on Earth is in trouble now that the French Empire is here."

"Then I'll go by myself," I whipped around, stomping towards the door.

"Victoria!" England jerked me back by the arm.

I swerved around, eyes wide. England had never used my human name before; not even France used it much, preferring his 'Sesel'. I opened my mouth to argue, trying to pull my arm from the Englishman's grasp. Then I caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes and stopped. England's forest green eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his thick eyebrows were tilted up, mouth ajar.

"A-Arthur…"

"Seychelles…" he said, releasing my wrist and turning his head away from me. I down and hid that arm behind my back, inconspicuously rubbing the reddened skin, "I respect France. We… we might fight a lot, but I still would still call him my friend. When I made you my colony, he made me promise…" England closed his eyes, tilting his head down and letting his shoulders sag, "Francis made me promise to protect you." My head shot up and he looked down at me, a sad smile on his face, "I won't break that promise."

I stepped back from him, looking down at my feet. I shook my head furiously, "You don't need to, Arthur; I'll go, find Germany, and bring him back. I've managed to hide and run from France for ten years; I know what I'm doing."

"No you don't," England argued, "You have _no idea_ what war like this is like, Seychelles. You've been running and hiding in Africa, away from the worst of the war."

"Away from the worst?" I couldn't help but shout at him. Africa hadn't been spared by the nukes; Very few countries had to my knowledge, and those still were affected by radiation and the war. I stared England full in the eyes, glaring, "I had to bury grandpa when a bomb hit my island; I've seen battles, seen people go crazy from all the running and hiding. I know _exactly_ what I'm getting into, Arthur, and I won't lose another friend."

I stomped out of the room, slamming it shut and sliding down the outside. England's voice came through the door, "You don't know, Seychelles. You just don't. Germany's dead."

I had run back to the small room I shared with Italy and didn't leave it until nightfall. Not that I could anyway; England made sure there were guards outside so I couldn't leave. I felt trapped like an animal; not unlike how I felt in that military truck headed for Paris. But this time I was all alone.

I waited until it was dark and the others were asleep to creep out. No one saw me; after years of running and hiding from the war I had become very good at sneaking around. My hair was tied back with France's ribbon, and I wore my thin, torn grayish blue dress. The air was cold, but I couldn't bring myself to steal a coat or take more clothes from the Alliance. They needed them more than I. I had to travel light anyway.

"I'll find Ludwig, Arthur; just you wait," I whispered as I slipped out the window of our room. Italy stirred in his sleep and I froze for a second, my eyes darting between him and my surroundings outside. Most were asleep inside the Alliance headquarters, but large spotlights and soldiers patrolled the grounds. I didn't know how far England's order to keep me safe inside had gone, but knowing him I would have to be careful and sneak.

I was good at that.

Staying low to the ground, I made my way across the grounds. I stayed close to the wall for a while; the majority of the soldiers and spotlights were trained west, towards the French Empire forces. I would head south as far as I could, then find a boat to take to Germany. Even I wasn't stupid enough to think I could make it past all the French Empire troops to get to Germany over the mainland. I would have to sneak through them a bit though, and I shivered at the thought. A large part of me wanted to turn away now, but I couldn't.

I would not give up on a friend again.

I dashed behind an empty truck just as a soldier rounded the corner of the building behind me. I flattened against it, my eyes darting through the darkness. A spotlight passed over the truck – thankfully on the other side – and when it was gone I took off, running on the balls of my feet to make as little noise as possible.

"Did you hear?" I stopped at another corner, leaning over for a split second to see two guards talking a few feet around it, "One of the nations brought the French Empire here."

"Yeah; England's got 'er guarded real good," the other said. I closed my eyes for a second, shaking the guilt from my mind. They were talking about me and France's collar, of course.

"We should just hand her over and get outta here."

I tried to block them out, judging the distance between the corner and another parked truck. If I could make that distance, it would be just a bit further until I was out of headquarters and just south of the front lines. I peeked around the corner again before launching myself behind the truck. Pain shot through my ankle and I had to stop myself from yelling. I had skidded a bit and twisted it.

"Did you hear that?" I froze when one of the guards spoke. They couldn't see me, but any sound I made…

"Naw; come on, let's head in. It's about time to switch watch," I sighed in relief when the crunch of gravel told me they were leaving.

After twisting my ankle around a bit to make sure it was okay, I slunk out from behind the truck. The main buildings hadn't been hit to badly by the airstrike, but a section of the cement walls had been destroyed. I slipped through a crumbling hole when the man guarding it's back was turned and kept low to the ground, moving between ruined city and spotlight. The night was black as pitch, but I was used to moving through the darkness. A few more minutes of hiding and dodging and I was out completely; far enough south that the Alliance wouldn't find me yet a bit west so I wouldn't run into other camps of the Alliance lining the peninsula.

"Seychelles!"

I whipped around, ready to make a break for it. Italy stopped in front of me, a coat and a pair of boots in his hands. He fell over, panting with his hands on his knees. I would have waited, but not even ten feet away was a decrepit building and a spotlight was sweeping towards us. I jerked Italy behind the building into an alleyway. The spot we had been in a split second before was bathed in light.

"Feliciano, what are you doing?" I whispered as I peaked back into the crumbling streets before turning to the brunette. I got a proper look at him; Italy was in his usual uniform with the jacket undone and tie missing. A rucksack hung from one shoulder. He looked exhausted from running, bent over and wheezing. He had to have drawn a lot of attention.

"Ah, Seychelles," Italy panted. He took a few more deep breaths before straightening up with a smile. I paled, eyes drawn to a bright metallic glint at his hip. I shouldn't have looked so surprised since all the nations and soldiers carried guns, but the sight of a .44 caliber Desert Eagle and a 9mm CZ-75B handgun strapped to my friend's hip was… unsettling. Both because Uganda had taught me so much about weapons while we were on the run and because they looked so out of place with Italy, "You're gonna go find Ludwig… ah, Germany, right?" I nodded, wary, and he continued, "Then I'm coming to!"

I blinked and tore my eyes away from the guns. I gulped and shook my head, "No, Feliciano."

He looked visibly deflated, shoulders sagging and a child's pout on his face, "But Seychelles, he's my best friend!"

"I said no!" I hissed, pushing passed Italy and moving down the alley, "Italy, go back to headquarters; you can't risk getting caught. You're not coming with me."

"Yes I am!" Italy was stubborn, running to my side, "And you can't stop me!"

"Keep your voice down," I shot back at him, "We'll get caught." I sighed, stopping and turning to Italy, "Feliciano, if we get caught you could go Insane. I wouldn't for a long time, but you… _especially_ with Japan and all…"

"I don't care," Italy grew uncharacteristically serious, looking down at me with a small – yet sad – smile, "I want to help Germany. I can't…" He grimaced, looking away, "I can't lose him like I lost Giappone."

The image of Japan from when the French Empire caught us African nations came to mind. He had hardly even looked at me, focused only on his report to France. The cold look in his eyes… it sent shivers up my spine. Italy got down on his knees, taking my hands with his own.

"Per favore, Seychelles. Per favore…"

I looked down into his hopeful eyes. Capturing Italy would be a prize for the French Empire. France himself was after me, but out of the two of us, larger country of Italy would be a more advantageous catch. His amber-brown eyes were hard and serious, a look I had never seen on the Italian's features.

"We could get caught, you know…" I said evasively, trying to shake the determined look from his face. It really wasn't a good idea for Italy to come with me…

He stood and nodded, "Ve… I know, Seyche, but Germany has helped me out a lot. I kinda owe him." The look in his eyes told me he wasn't bluffing; Italy knew exactly what he was getting into.

"Okay," I sighed, turning away from him, "But you need to be quiet. We'll have to cut through the edge of the French Empire forces to get to the end of the island and take a boat from Næstved, get to Germany, then head for Berlin."

"Can't we just take the mainland route?" I shot him a look and waited a few seconds while he really thought that plan over, "Oh… right." The chances of getting through that many French soldiers and the Alliance in the rest of Denmark was miniscule. The Great Belt Bridge would be a lot more dangerous than taking a boat from Næstved. Italy jogged in front of me, making me stop, "Wait, Seyche." He held up the jacket and boots, "I woke up before you left and saw you didn't have any shoes on or anything…" I took them and slipped the faded dark navy blue military jacket and scuffed-up dark brown boots on.

"Gran mersi, Feliciano," I forced a smile, moving to go around him.

"Ah! Seyche-" I shushed him; the Italian was a really loud person. He smiled sheepishly, reaching in his own jacket and speaking in a whisper this time, "Scusa. Ho dimenticato; Iceland stopped me before I left. I think he guessed that you'd snuck out, and he gave me something this to give you." Italy handed me a small strip. It took me a minute to realize what it was.

My other hair ribbon.

"Où at-il le…!" My eyes widened and I held it up in shock. I didn't even know when I had lost it, so how did Iceland find it?

"He found it snagged in one of the trucks and recognized it," Italy rubbed the back of his head, "Iceland wanted to come take you back, 'cause he doesn't like Germany and is worried and stuff… but I think he knew you wouldn't wanna."

"Mersi, Feliciano…" I hugged the ribbon to my chest. These ribbons were important to me; I remember when France gave them to me when we first met, to 'show your pretty face'. I couldn't help but sob, squeezing my eyes shut and sinking to my knees, "Mersi…"

* * *

The sky was beginning to lighten when we reached the outskirts of the French Empire camp. Italy and I had to take a round-about route; the Alliance realized we were gone and would be sending out a few search parties before the fighting started up again. My hair was in messy pigtails again; France's gifts were in their rightful place.

We had to make it through the French lines and passed their camp; I had overheard England talking to Norway the day before about how their forces were the thinnest here and that all the rubble of Denmark would make it hard to defend. That meant it would be easier to slip by unseen.

When I saw the French Empire flag flying in the distance, I raised a finger to my lips to shush Italy. He blinked, confused, and I pointed at the colorful flag. His eyes widened a bit and the Italian gulped noisily. I sighed, looking ahead again; this was going to be difficult.

We snuck through the crumbling buildings and dilapidated streets. I wanted to put the Empire behind us before the sun came up, but the black sky was beginning to lighten.

"Stay quiet and low," I whispered to Italy, who nodded. The brunette wasn't well known for being stealthy, but the urgency of the situation seemed to get through to him. Despite that, I added, "If we get caught, no one will be able to help Ludwig." I regretted saying that when a bit of color drained from his face, but I couldn't help it. I needed to make sure he knew.

It wasn't long after that that we snuck passed the first guards. I led Italy through the twisted metal and fallen buildings, flattening against a wall when I heard heavy footfalls. My heart sped up and I looked around the corner for a split second before flipping back behind the wall. They were French Empire soliders; clad in military camo and carrying FAMAS assault rifles. Across the line they patrolled was the first buildings occupied by the French Empire. I looked around in the dark for a way passed the soldiers.

"Seyche, here," Italy whispered, quietly heaving himself through the broken window of the building I was standing against. He helped me through, but I winced when a shard of broken glass sliced a shallow cut into my left thigh. Italy's eyes widened and he got on his knees, pulling up my dress a bit to look at the cut, "Seyche!"

"Shh!" I stepped out of his grasp, "I'm fine; it's nothing. Let's go." I walked passed Italy, looking around. We were in some kind of apartment. Without wasting any time I strode to the other side and opened the door to an apartment carefully. Italy followed behind me, concern written all over his face. He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand to shush him, peering around the door.

The apartment was very old and everything a faded grey. I raced through it to the other side, stopping to the side of another broken window. I peeked through it before motioning for Italy to come. He ran next to me and I looked out the window again. The soldiers were coming so I whipped back, holding my breath until they passed. The third time I looked it was clear, so I waited a few more seconds, looked again, and heaved myself out the window. Italy followed, and we dashed to the other side, making it behind a dumpster in the alley across the street before the soldiers turned. The line was a lot thinner here, but I wasn't kidding myself. A flashlight illuminated the street behind us as Italy and I took off, a signal that we had just barely made it.

We kept low to the ground the rest of the way, ducking and crawling under low-hanging windows and dashing passed soldiers. We were lucky and almost reached the other side before sunrise. We would have kept going had voices not made us both freeze.

"我々は、パトロール中のより多くの男性が必要です。" It was Japan's voice, "Bonnefoy-san, Alliance forces could slip through easily."

"Not enmass," I shivered when France spoke, "One or two, perhaps."

"Japan's right, France," The third I vaguely recognized as Spain. So Spain was part of the French Empire as well… I looked up at the low window over our heads and back at Italy, poking him to break the brunette out of his reverie. I jerked my head back, making my way quickly to the other end of the building. The rest was just rubble, and beyond that trees had overtaken the ruins.

I whipped around the corner and hit the wall, sliding down it. My heart felt like it would thump right out of my chest, and I clenched my teeth hard against sobbing.

"Seychelles…" Italy knelt in front of me, eyes wide, "What do we do?"

I caught the glint of his guns, and something in me snapped. An odd numbness spread through me and I looked into Italy's eyes calmly.

"Feliciano… give me the Desert Eagle," I held out my hand, voice level.

He blinked, raising an eyebrow and looking down, "I… I just brought these 'cause Iceland wouldn't let me go without them… why?"

"Italy, listen to me," I stood, willing myself steady and calm, "There shouldn't be too many soldiers left. I want you to go ahead; wait for me at the edge of the woods." I held out my hand for the gun.

"Seyche… no," Italy shook his head, standing and taking a step back, "Let's just… let's just go, okay?"

I smile; a real one, "Feli, silvouple. It's been nearly fifteen years since I've really been able to talk to him. Silvouple…"

"Why do you want the gun?" Italy whispered, stepping right up to me with concern written all over his face.

"So I can get out again," I said, "Please, Feliciano."

He stared at me for what seemed like a long time, childish face alight with emotion. Italy's eyes looked away, "I'll come with you."

I shook my head, "I won't be long."

"Ma!"

"Feliciano, please," I was begging now, taking one of his hand in both of mine, "I don't want to risk you becoming Insane. Please, wait for me."

Italy bit his lip, turning his head away. I could see how much he wanted to go with me, but I refused to risk it. I was gambling so much already…

It had been ten years since the French Empire invaded my island, and fifteen since I had a chance to see France. The guards and soldiers were few and far between this far out… who knows if I would ever have a chance again? Even though it filled me with fear, even though I might get caught, I had to. I just had to.

Italy sighed and forced a smile, fumbling with the more silver gun at his side. He held it out to me and I took it; the weapon was heavy in my hands, "Fate attenzione."

I nodded, even though I didn't know what he said. He turned and ran off into the ruined concrete jungle. I waited until he was out of sight to turn around myself. Holding the gun tight in my hand, I snuck back down the alley towards the window. Spain, Japan, and France were still talking.

"Maldita sea, Francia, te encanta coquetear con el peligro ¿no?" Spain laughed. I stayed below the window, so I couldn't see what they were doing, but could tell from their voices where they were, "Still, a few more soldiers couldn't hurt, no?"

"But where is the fun in that?" France chuckled and I stifled a sob. His laugh was low and so familiar… I felt myself missing it.

I gripped the gun tighter.

"Bien, bien," I could hear him stepping closer. My heart sped up; I swore I could hear it, "Japan, if you are so worried, I put you in charge of the patrol. Assign as many men as you see fit. Spain…" his footsteps were headed away from the window now; I felt my heart calm with each step. What was I _thinking_? "Will you head to Hamburg? Greece is having trouble finding Germany. Who knew the man would be so good at hiding?"

"Heracles-kun is having difficulties?" Japan said, "France-san, may I go in Spain-san's stead?"

More laughing from France, "Sure; if it's alright with Spain, of course."

"Yeah, yeah," I could hear Spain walking away, followed by the click of someone opening a door, "I'll take care of the patrol." He walked out, followed by a second pair of feet and the closing of the door. The third pair – France – began to walk away.

I felt warm as adrenaline pumped through my system, forcing myself to wait another minute before jumping out of my hiding place. I whipped around, pointing Italy's Desert Eagle through the open window.

He was staring right at me, surprise written all over his face.

France was staring at me.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm on a role. Originally, this chapter was a hell of a lot shorter (I'm seven pages into the next one at the moment because I split them) but I decided to cut it and leave a little cliffhanger. Have fun all. ^^ I considered having Iceland go with Seychelles to rescue Germany for a long time, but after talking to my Hetalia-loving girlfriend I decided Italy was the better choice. He might seem uncharacteristically serious in this chapter, but then again this is a serious fanfiction and Hetalia… well, isn't that serious. xD;;; I hope you all like it, and hope this 'role' of mine keeps going, 'cause you might have another part soon if it does. I also had to do a LOT of research on this one; planning their exact route, looking into different types of handguns, figuring out what kind of guns the French military uses, etc. All at like… 12pm-4am xD;;; I've lost my fucking mind.

**Translation**

**Italian**

Giappone - Japan

Per favore, Seychelles. Per favore. - Please, Seychelles. Please.

Scusa. Ho dimenticato – Sorry. I forgot

Ma! – But!

Fate attenzione. – Be careful.

**Seselwa/ Seychellois Creole**

Gran mersi – thank you so much

Mersi – Thank you

Feli, silvouple – Feli, please

**French**

Où at-il le…! – Where did he…!

Bien, bien. – Fine, fine.

**Japanese**

我々は、パトロール中のより多くの男性が必要です。- We need more men on patrol

**Spanish**

Maldita sea, Francia, te encanta coquetear con el peligro ¿no? – Damn, France, you just love flirting with danger don't you?


	6. Why Do You Run?

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine but the crappy poem that makes up chapter titles.

* * *

Chapter Six

**Why Do You Run?**

"_Tears are words the heart can't express" _

_- Anonynmous

* * *

_

His hair was tied with a thin blue ribbon, unruly waves framing his face. In all these years since the fighting began, I had only seen him in full military regalia or one of his extremely fancy suits. Now he looked so much like the man I once knew; a light peach button-down shirt with the top few buttons undone and rolled up sleeves along with long, brownish red pants with off-black boots. In one hand was a half-raised glass of wine, a bewildered look on his face.

"Sesel…" the wineglass dropped from his hands and dyed the carpet red. I felt tears sting my eyes as he took a step towards me, "Sesel, ma douce-"

"Don't move!" I hissed, his name-calling breaking me out of my reverie. Gritting my teeth together, I reminded myself to keep my voice down. To emphasize my words, I jerked the gun a bit in his direction.

"Sesel…" France froze, opening his mouth like he wanted to say more, but he didn't.

"Stay right there," I ordered, trying to keep the gun trained on him as I pushed myself up and over the window ledge. The second I was over, I whipped my head back up and walked around him, making sure to keep a wide berth. I went to the door, clicking the flimsy lock closed. It wasn't much, but if anyone came knocking I would have a little warning.

He was still staring at me, at a loss for words. I moved around him again so my back was too a wall and I could see him, the door, and the window. France turned with me, never taking his eyes away. The two of us stood there, just staring at each other, as his eyes trailed down my body. His gaze locked onto my left thigh, and France made to jump forward, but I shook the gun threateningly.

"I said don't move!"

His beautiful azure eyes shot up, a mix of alarm and shock on his face, "Mon amour, tu es blessé!"

"It's just a scratch, Francis," I was thrown by the concern in his voice, but quickly collected myself, "And don't talk so loud." I started to shake; his physical presence made me weak. Made me feel like a kid again.

"Seychelles, s'il vous plait," France held out a hand for me, concern written all over his face, "We need to get that leg looked at. Hold on, I'll go get one of my military doctors-" He turned to head for the door.

"Stop!" I raced forward, still careful to keep my distance, "If you go… if you go, I'll shoot you!"

He whipped around, mouth agape, "Sesel, what are you _thinking_?"

"I don't know… I don't know, okay!" I sank to the ground, my grip on the pistol slackening, "I just… haven't seen you in so long, Francis… well, I've seen you but… not really."

France's expression softened and a small, genuine smile crossed his face, "Sesel…"

"Non…" I shook my head, "I think… I just wanted to see you one last time." I wanted to convince myself he hadn't changed so much. That my Francis was still there, somewhere.

"Last time?" He shook his head, "Sesel, it doesn't have to be a last time."

"Wi, it does," I stumbled up and backed away from him, towards a couch and desk on the far wall, "Francis, do you have handcuffs?"

He raised an eyebrow, that characteristic smirk I knew so well on his face. My heart ached, "Ma chérie, if _that_ was what you had in mind for this imagined 'last time' together, I would be more than willing to oblige."

The familiarity of it all was too much. He wasn't acting like the man I had feared and run from for ten years. Right now, France was acting like… France.

It scared me.

"Francis, I… I'm serious," I felt blood rush to my cheeks as I held the gun with one hand and felt around behind me for the desk drawer. It took a few tries, but eventually I found what I was looking for: a pair of silvery handcuffs. Of course France had some. Had this happened fifteen years ago, I would have sighed and shaken my head, smiling at his antics and cuddling up next to him like a little kid.

"Francis," I tossed the handcuffs at him, "Cuff yourself and sit down on the couch." I jerked the gun towards the couch, moving away from it to put a lot of room between the two of us.

France looked down at the handcuffs for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head, "Sesel, you're not serious."

"Wi, Francis," The gun shook in my hands. I couldn't believe what I was doing; putting myself and Italy in danger just to see France again. What was wrong with me? Had Italy gotten out okay? Any second now someone could come to see France for anything; he led the French Empire after all. This was a stupid idea, a terrible plan… but when I heard him, I couldn't stop myself.

France sighed, shaking his head as he clicking the handcuffs on and gracefully sat down on the couch, leaning towards me with his elbows on his knees. I stood with my back to the window, trying to steady my hands. We must have stood in silence for a full minute before France leaned back on the couch with a smirk.

"You did not think this through at all, did you ma belle fleur?" He chuckled lightly.

I blushed, gritting my teeth over his laid-back behavior. I was pointing a high powered magnum pistol at him! He seemed far more concerned with my leg than his own life. I could end everything here!

I could… end everything here…

"Sh… shut up!" I shook the thought from my mind. Since when did I think of ending things?

"Sesel, let me take care of your leg," France gestured towards his desk, "I have a first aid kit in there."

"Non," I shook my head. The adrenaline was beginning to die down and I stepped back, wincing as pain shot through my leg. My gaze flicked down for just a second to look at the cut; dried and dirt-smeared blood covered my inner and front thigh. I could see his point, but the idea of France that close to me…

I shuddered and France sighed again, "Sesel, don't you trust me?"

"Non," I spoke before I could stop myself.

He looked sad for a second; if I hadn't been paying attention – if I didn't know France as well as I did - I would have missed it. He masked his expression with another smile, raising his cuffed hands, "Ma chérie, I'm handcuffed, you have a gun and the door is locked; what could I possibly do?"

I bit my lip, eyes flickering around the room and behind me at the window. I couldn't hear anyone coming, and when I shifted my weight to the injured leg, it gave out. I stumbled and dropped the gun. France almost leapt from the couch, but I grabbed the gun and fell back, pointing it up at him. The wound _did_ need attention. I held the gun in my trembling left hand and used the desk to pick myself up.

"Bottom drawer," France said, the concerned – almost frightened – look on his face making me turn away. It was so hard to see him caring, with everything that has happened.

This was the stupidest idea in a whole series of my stupid ideas.

I opened the desk and felt around, keeping my eyes and gun on pointed at France. Because of that, I couldn't see inside the drawer and puffed my cheeks out childishly when I didn't find the first aid kit immediately. He chuckled at my slow pace and I glared at him, whipping out a small kit from the desk and sticking my tongue out at him. France scooted to the right side of the couch so I could sit down. I was cautious, moving at a snail's pace with my eyes and the gun locked on France's every movement.

"Come on, Sesel, I don't bite," he smiled when I handed him the first aid kit.

"Yes, you do," I sat down, drawing the gun closer to my chest so he couldn't try and disarm me.

France laughed, shaking his head. The tone of his laugh struck me; it was higher than usual, lacking the mirth and lightness I knew. Careful to not look him in the eyes, I started to pay closer attention. France was paler yet hadn't lost his strong and lithe physique. His face, however… a bit gaunt with lavender shadows under his eyes, which were half-lidded with exhaustion. I doubted Spain or anyone else had noticed; France's tired looks were very slight. Unlike at the Alliance complex or when the French Empire caught us Africans, I didn't feel afraid of him. I didn't know how long it would last, but I almost felt… pity.

"_Je n'ai pas le choix, ma chérie…"_

His words rang in my ears as France opened the first aid kit and took out some gauze, a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and a few other items, "Love, I'll need that leg." He held out his hands.

I hesitated, my heart racing. France raised an eyebrow and gestured to my injured leg again. I slowly lifted my left leg onto his lap, the other dangling off the side of the couch. France's grimaced when he got a proper look at the cut, tearing his eyes away from it to look up at me, "I'll need to lift the dress a bit, ma chérie." I gulped and nodded, goosebumps breaking out across my leg when he lifted my faded dress just enough to see the whole injury. He paled and stared for a second before shaking his head vigorously, as if to get the image of the wound out of his mind.

"Sesel, ma pêche, how did this happen?" France gently twisted my leg a bit into a better position to inspect the cut more. He leaned forward over my thigh, oblivious to how the top of his head was now only an inch from the barrel of Italy's gun. I moved it inconspicuously into my right hand and away from him.

"I… I got cut on some glass going out a window," France was so close now; I could smell his spicy scent. A mix of cinnamon and chocolate with a bit of the sweet wine he had been drinking. He wasn't wearing any cologne – I always hated as a kid when he did; made him smell all wrong – and I could feel myself slipping. Slipping into my old self.

When France started to clean the wound with alcohol wipes and hydrogen peroxide, I sucked in a sharp breath and arched my back, pain spreading through my thigh, "Désolé, Sesel. It will only hurt for a bit." I knew he was lying, but it was France's way of comforting me. It had the opposite effect.

It reminded me of home.

France smiled reassuringly and went back to bandaging my leg. When the cut was clean, he attached a few butterfly bandages, "Just as a precaution, Sesel", and lifted my knee to wrap bandages around my thigh. I felt warm all over, my face turning beet red and beads of sweat rolling down the back of my neck. It wasn't the pain that was doing this to me. At least, not completely.

"Tout est fait, ma pêche," France gently laid one hand on my inner thigh and the other under my calf, easing my leg back down when he finished. His fingers lingered, making my blush deepen. Then he looked up from my leg to me, and I couldn't look away fast enough.

When he first captured me, I could see so many subtle changes in France. Now, with his ocean blue eyes staring into my brown, it was different. The differences were still there – darker, older, maybe even a bit sinister – but the gentleness and compassion was back in his eyes. France blinked and tilted his head to the side a bit, smirking. He stared at me with those eyes – the eyes of the man who raised me – and I slipped further. I hunched my shoulders and drew a hand to my chest, tilting my head down but unable to break eye contact. I felt nervous, yet protected in his hands. Like when I was a child, before all of this started.

France's eyes darkened and he chuckled; low and sinister.

I lunged from the couch, hitting the floor and swinging around with the gun held in both hands. His face changed and I was looking into the eyes of not France, not my Francis Bonnefoy, but of the French Empire. Dark and beautiful, strong yet gentle.

"Ma pêche," France stood, towering over me. He was still smiling, "You are alright now, Sesel. Come, you look starved." He held out a hand for me, but I shook my head rapidly, scrambling to my own feet and dashing to the window.

This was a stupid idea. I knew it was a stupid idea. Wanting to see France one last time was incredibly stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He lured me into a false sense of security, and now I had one hand on the windowsill to vault over, the gun and my eyes torn from France for the first time in blind panic.

"Victoria!" I froze. My human name, used twice in less than twenty four hours… in all my years, that had never happened before. He had also yelled; soldiers or other nations in the Empire would be rushing in soon, "My dear Seychelles… please, do not leave me again."

My hand that wasn't holding the gun balled into a fist on the windowsill. France sounded so desperate. I felt torn in half again, between my love for France and hatred and fear for the French Empire. My senses were heightened, tense…

The second I heard movement, I bolted. Vaulting over the windowsill and twisting around, I saw the doorknob shot out and France dashing towards me. I took off, gone before the door was open and around the corner of the building before France could reach the window. I may not be smart, I may not be strong… but these years of war taught me to be fast.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins, my newly-bandages leg screaming in protest as I dashed through the rubble. Seconds later, a loud siren blared overhead. I had just passed the tree line when the alarm was raised, silently prayed to no god in particular that Italy was alright and that I hadn't gotten us both caught.

I nearly cried in relief when I saw the Italian's characteristic curl. He smiled brightly, waving and calling my name. I didn't even pause; I switch the gun into my left hand, snagged Italy's uniform, and kept running.

"Seychelles?"

"Just keep running," I huffed. We did just that, dashing around trees and running as far as our legs would carry us.

We didn't stop until Italy all but collapsed, taking me down with him, "Seyche, una pausa… per favore…"

I looked up; there were no planes. Back the way we came; I could see no pursuit. Both of us were panting heavily and I winced from a sharp pain in my chest. My legs felt like jelly, and the injured one wobbled.

I strained my ears, shushing Italy when he tried to speak again. Laying down on the ground, I pressed my ear again the soil, steadying my breathing as best I could so I could listen.

… _crunch_.

We were being hunted. Slow, methodic footsteps a long ways off. We couldn't run for much longer. I whipped my head around, looking for someplace – anyplace – to hide. Strange as it was – to hide when I told myself I wouldn't ever again – soldiers would be coming through here soon.

My eyes fell on our salvation; a dark crevice in a huge pile of rubble. I heaved a slab of concrete, revealing a tiny hiding hole. I ushered Italy inside and pulled the concrete back into place. Everything went pitch black.

"Seyche…" Italy whined. He didn't like the dark. I squeezed his shoulder, both to reassure the older nation and to quiet him. Italy whimpered a bit and I heard footsteps; before he could give away our hiding place, I pressed my hand over his mouth, half leaning over the brunette.

The soldiers were getting closer. I felt cold; if they found us now, it would all be my fault. Everything.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins and I tensed when I heard dead grass crunch underfoot not a foot from us. I had tried to move the cement slab to cover the crevice too, but a small bit of light filtered in at the bottom. I could see combat boots and felt the blood drain from my face.

After what seemed like forever, I heard the heaven's sign.

"All clear; let's move on."

Italy made to cheer, but I pressed my hand harder to muffle him. For being a much older nation then me, Italy was kind of tactless at times. I waited another twenty minutes, until I was sure all the French troops sent after us were good and gone, before throwing my shoulder again the concrete and moving it away. The sun was high in the sky now, and we were all alone.

We had escaped.

Even Italy felt a sense of accomplishment, squealing and hugging me around the middle, "We made it, Seyche! Now let's go find Ludwig!"

I couldn't help but smile. We had made it away from both the Alliance and the French Empire. I looked up at the sun, then around at the ruined landscape it illuminated. Our next stop was Berlin. The smile was wiped from my face at the thought. The trees and plants here were a dying brownish-green, and everything was in ruins. This was still Denmark, far enough from the devastation of the war and the nukes that it still looked sort of normal.

If Switzerland had looked so decrepit when passing through Geneva… how terrible would Berlin be?

"Seyche?" Italy tilted his head to the side, concerned.

I shook my head, breaking that depressing train of thought. We had a long way to go, sure, and I didn't know what would happen when we got there, but… we were safe, for now at least.

"_Ma pêche…"_ I shuddered. Sure, we were safe now… but for how long?

* * *

**Author's Note:** There's the next part! I was channeling Xenosaga while writing this and turned France into Albedo. xDD I don't know why, but it seems rather fitting, no? n.n

**Translation**

**Seselwa/ Seychellois Creole**

Non – no

Wi – yes

**French**

Sesel, ma douce – Sesel, my sweet

Mon amour, tu es blessé! – My love, you're hurt!

Seychelles, s'il vous plait – Seychelles, please

Ma chérie – My darling

Ma belle fleur – My beautiful flower

Je n'ai pas le choix, ma chérie – I have no choice, my darling

Ma pêche – My peach

Désolé – Sorry

Tout est fait, ma pêche – All done, my peach

**Italian**

Seyche, una pausa… per favore… - Seyche, a break… please…


	7. All I Do Is Love You

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine but the crappy poem that makes up chapter titles.

* * *

Chapter Seven

**All I Do Is Love You**

"_The world has achieved brilliance without wisdom, power without conscience. Our is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants."_

_Omar Bradley

* * *

_

It took a few days for Italy and I to reach the coast. We didn't come across many soldiers, Alliance or French Empire, on the way… it was strange. The way France had acted, and our relationship to him… yet the pursuit died off so quickly. It made me weary, and as we searched the coastal town for a boat to use to get to Germany, I voiced my concerns to Italy.

"Ve?" He poked his head out the door of a small cruiser. He had been checking if it had enough gas to get to Germany, "I guess it's weird…" He looked up at the dark gray sky with a furrowed brow. I was surprised at my friend; he had always been so upbeat and loud, which is the exact opposite of what you want in our situation, but he had been quiet and didn't ask questions lately. I chalked it up to concern for Germany, but it still worried me.

"I don't think they know where we're going, Seyche," He turned back inside the small covered part of the boat, trying to make it start now. We had gathered what supplies we could find, even though the city was mostly stripped of them. The world was so empty now; so desolate if you weren't in a camp of one of the two sides of this war. It was frightening and eerie.

I had grown used to it all.

"Let's hope so…" I whispered as the boat roared to life. Italy gave an excited squeal and turned the wheel, gently turning the boat from the shores of Denmark and into open water.

I laid back on what little room the skip had. It was just enough room for the two of us and my rucksack, with a little overhang where Italy stood to steer. I couldn't believe how lucky we had been, especially with my recent stroke of unfortunate events. Most of what was left in the harbor was half-sunken or torn down, yet this little tugboat (I wasn't sure what it actually was for, so tugboat was a guess) was half-hidden under debris and still seaworthy, though barely. Italy knew a thing or two about boats, being a nation with water around three sides and mountains on the fourth, and helped to get it working again. Despite being an island nation, I never gave boats and ships much thought… I liked staying on my little island, playing hide and seek in the forest and fishing for tuna with France.

Italy looked back to see my expression grow sad, and looked at me with concern, "Non essere triste, Seyche… what's wrong?"

I shook my head, looking up at the dark sky, "Nothing, Feliciano… just thinking."

"Oooh…" He turned back to look ahead. It was pretty much a straight shot to Germany from here, and it wouldn't take too long. A day, tops, "Ve, Seyche… I don't think a lot."

I giggled a bit. So he hadn't changed _too_ much, "What do you mean, Feli?"

"Thinking makes my brain hurt and makes me feel funny," Italy's voice grew whiny, and he shook his head, "Like I get all worried for Ludwig or Kiku and I think and think and wonder what's happening to them and then think and get a headache, and… and…" He made a weird sound somewhere between a squeal and a sigh, "It's not fun. I don't like thinking."

"Everyone thinks, Italy."

"Well I don't! It's not fun, so I don't do it!" He puffed his cheeks out in defiance, arousing another giggle from me.

The two of us fell silent, the only sound being from the boat's motor. It was ancient and made a loud ruckus as the boat moved, but it was a lullaby to me. I let my eyes fall closed; Italy would wake me up when we got there or when it was time for him to rest. He could be very annoyingly vocal when exhausted.

It seemed like mere minutes later when Italy started poking me awake with his foot. I groaned and groggily pushed myself up. Usually I didn't sleep so heavily, but we were on a boat out in the middle of nowhere. In this new world, the chances of running across either the Alliance or the French Empire in the middle of the sea was next to nothing. I yawned, covering my mouth with my hand, and blinked the sleep from my eyes before looking up at Italy. The sky was dark now, and since we had no light I could just barely make him out.

"Feliciano?"

"Seyche, I… um…" Italy sighed, looking down for a moment before speaking again, "… do you think we'll be able to find Germania?"

It took me a second to realize what he was actually asking; whether or not Germany was alive. I looked away from him and the black glassy water and took in a deep breath. I closed my eyes before answering honestly, "I don't know."

There was silence again for a good five minutes before Italy spoke up again, "… I'm scared, Seyche."

I stood up, wobbling a bit on the small boat, and wrapped my arms around Italy. He tensed for a moment before breaking down in my arms, the two of us falling to the floor. He was trembling, and I just held him.

"Shh, Feli…" I tried to reassure the shaking nation, rubbing his back.

"Seyche… I… I…" He held onto me, "I'm just so scared… what if Germany is… is…" A fresh wave of tears came, "Romano's missing too, and big brother France…"

I could feel tears sting my own eyes as he buried his head in my shoulder. I knew exactly how he felt. Scared for other people, scared for himself, scared of the unknown. Italy was missing so much…

I held onto him, letting a few tears slip out unnoticed. We stayed like that, holding each other, for what felt like hours until the other nation's snores alerted me. He had cried himself to sleep. I carefully pulled myself from him and laid Italy down on the boat floor, taking his spot at the helm. In the dark and without the stars due to the heavy clouds, I wasn't sure exactly which way to go, so continued forward.

I didn't know when, or even if, we would find Germany. Oh, this was so stupid! What was I doing all the way out here, in the middle of the sea? The areas of the world not expressly controlled by either the Alliance or the French Empire were desolate and full of bandits and stray soldiers. We were heading into the very heart of the search for Germany that was being conducted by the French Empire. Why was I here…?

Germany was my friend, yes, but I had spent ten years running from anything and everyone, just trying to find someplace safe. I had given up my only chance for safety not once, but twice now. France knew I was out without any sort of protection – save for Iceland's guns – and I couldn't believe the luck Italy and I had in the lack of pursuit. Then again, for all I knew, he had a force waiting for us on the shore.

I shuddered at the thought.

I was here to save Germany, right? Yes, to save my friend. But I didn't even know if he was alive… "Non…" I said to myself, closing my eyes for a moment, "He _is_ alive. He has to be." Slowly, I looked up to the horizon just as the sky began to lighten. The sun did not show itself - the cloud cover was far too thick – but I could see an outline of land in the distance. A desolate beach with high, jagged rocks. As treacherous as the shore looked, I couldn't help but sigh with relief. If the shore was like that, then it would be easy to hide the boat.

"Feli…" I let go of the steering wheel to shake the Italian awake. He groaned and turned over, causing a scowl to appear on my face, "Feliciano, wake up."

"Five more minutes…" Italy batted me off, curling up into a tighter ball.

"Feliciano…" I sighed. How had Germany woken this man up all the time? What did he say…? Oh, right, "I once killed a man in his sleep with his own mustache and a grape."

"Aaaaah!" Italy jumped up, eyes comically wide and instantly awake. The two of us stared at each other for a moment before he sheepishly grinned, rubbing the back of his head, "Eheheh…"

I giggled, "Feli, could you get the boat to shore? I don't really know how to do it…" I gestured back to the helm, and he nodded. Italy took over, guiding the little tugboat between the jagged rocks, hiding it in a little alcove of rubble. I got our meager things together in my bag and stepped off while Italy tied the boat to a rock. I doubt we would be able to find it again once we set off for Berlin, but it couldn't hurt. I did have a small map, but I would have to figure out where we had landed before marking it.

"Finito!" Italy straightened up, smacking his hands together in accomplishment. I couldn't help but smile a bit at his attitude, but then was reminded of the night before. Italy had collapsed in my arms, crying with worry over Germany. His happy attitude was there, but it was just a farce. Italy was really sick with worry, I could tell.

"Come on, Feli," I started climbing out of the alcove. The beach was strewn with broken down vehicles, twisted metal, and cracked cement; they all made for excellent – if dangerous – hand and foot holes.

I had a better time climbing up than Italy; I was raised on my island by France, surrounded by trees to climb and caves to hide in. And ten years of running from the most important person in your life forces you to hone skills that could help you escape. Thinking of it now made me remember when France had invaded my little islands.

* * *

_I was picking fruit off the trees at the beach. By me was a small stream that dumped off into the ocean, a net I had installed catching some of the fish that swam through. France, England, and my other European friends were having one of their fights again. That usually meant that they would show up on my island usually, shipwrecked or just on vacation (though they seldom realized they were actually on __**my**__ island). I was going to make a big meal for when they got here. Lotsa fish! Fresh fish! And nice tropical fruits, with honey!_

"_Doucement, doucement. Doucement s'en va le jour. Doucement, doucement… À pas de velours," I sang to myself. It was an old lullaby France used to sing to me when I was a child. I was scared of the dark and lightening as a child, but he always made me feel better._

_My singing trailed off when the sound of huge ships drew my attention. Had this shipwrecked this early? It had only been five years since England sent me home at the start of this 'war'. I whipped around with a wide smile. Who would be first? Italy, Japan, and Germany? Or would France and England come?_

_My smile died when I saw the large military cruisers stopping on my island's shore. They were huge, and a dark, gunmetal gray. The last time ships like this had come, it was when I met France, and even back then the ships hadn't been equipped like this._

_My wide eyes scanned the huge gun turrets and cannons lining the ships. What was going on? Who were these people? I felt the need the run and hide, like when I was a child, so I dashed behind a tree, hiding in some bushes at its base. My fruit basket fell to the sand, spilling out mangos and bananas all over._

_Men in thick military outfits stomped out of the battleships when they set down. I held my breath as they ran around me into the forest, into my island. What was going on?_

_A few stopped at my fallen basket, nudging it with their rifles. I felt my face pale at the sight of those things. They frightened me so much. Where was France? He or England always protected me from these kind of people…_

_With that thought running through my head, I saw Francis step off the ship. He wore a wide feathered hat, and an outfit that was frilly and colorful and just so much __**France**__. The soldiers spoke to him, and he walked over to the fallen basket, kneeling down in the sand. His hands wrapped around a mango, smiling sweetly down at it._

_I wanted to call out to him, but something stopped me. Something about France seemed strange. Off. What were these men doing here with him? All the guns, all the warships… what was going on?_

"_Sesel…" I trembled at the sound of his voice. It was darker and a bit deeper than I remembered. His smile widened until his face no longer resembled my Francis. He changed in front of my very eyes into something… else._

_Then he looked up, right into my eyes, and my tiny little world shattered.

* * *

_

"Seyche!" Italy's words made me start. He was waiting on the other side of the rubble pile for me. I shook the memories from my head and finished my climb, going up and over, then jumping to a small patch of clear sand. Italy looked at me with worry, "Seyche… are you okay?"

I shook my head, "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just remembered something." I ignored the brunette's worried look and walked ahead a bit, scanned the area. Everything was crumbling and dead, even grayer than the area of Denmark. This part of Germany wasn't even given the luxury of dried grass. I looked up at Italy, "Feli, do you know where we are…?"

He looked around, brow furrowed, "Vediamo…" Italy shook his head after a moment, "The shore looked _kinda_ Rostock, but there were big buildings here, and boats, and the river wanted blocked off by all the-!"

"Feli, Feli," I put a hand on Italy's arm. His face was screwed up like he wanted to cry again. I could feel tears well up inside me as well, "It's okay, Feliciano…" I managed a shaky smile before turning and heading down the crumbling roads, "Let's just… go, okay?"

Italy nodded and jogged to keep up with me, and the two of us walked on in silence. I was hoping Italy had some idea where we were; he had spent a lot of time in Germany before the war. But this place would be unrecognizable. It was nothing more than a ruin, and as we walked on it became even less than that. In Geneva, I had seen bodies and evidence that life had once been there. But here… there was less than nothing.

Italy saw the first shadow, and all the color drained from his face, "Se… Sey…" I turned to see what he was looking at, and saw the outline of a person charred into the wall. I gasped, feeling numb as I walked towards it. Italy made a noise of protest, but I couldn't help myself; I touched the shadow, and it felt cold under my fingertips. After a moment of stunned silence, I tore myself away, only to find another one. And another. And another.

It was a graveyard without the bodies.

My knees shook as I tried to move on. I had never seen anything like this. This level of death, of devastation, was beyond terrifying. How many people had lived here? How many people had died? _How many shadows were burned into the charred city by the nuclear bomb?_

Something caught my eye. A tiny doll that had somehow survived the carnage. It was charred with bits of dark hair left, and a mess of threads where its eyes should have been. Shaking, I picked it up, my eyes trailing up from the doll. On the wall directly above it was a burnt shadow. A shadow of a little girl.

I couldn't take it anymore. I collapsed to the ground and broke into tears. Italy fell beside me, taking me into his arms like I had the night before. I could barely hear his cries above my own. Why was I still crying? Hadn't I cried enough? Crying never changed a thing, but I couldn't help it.

We were surrounded by death. Each and every one of those burnt shadows was once a human being before the war turned nuclear. Each one of them had a family, had a life, job, hobbies, personality. Each of them was important to someone else, who was important to another person. We as nations are supposed to _protect_ our people. Keep them safe and _alive_. So why? _Why were so many dead?_

"It's… not…" I choked out between sobs, clutching Italy to me, "It's not fair!"

The two of us cried and cried over the sheer injustice of it all. So many people, dead. Where was the sense in all this? There is no reason, no way to justify this kind of slaughter. Why do humans do this to each other? Why do we, who are supposed to _protect_ our people, do this to them? Why? Why?

There was no reason. There was no justice. France would say he did everything for love, England would say he did it for his people, America would gush about doing this all to be the hero. But none of those reasons – not a single one – could justify _this_. I could _feel_ the death around me. Choking me. Corroding me.

If this is what being a nation meant, then I wanted no part of it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** The line Seyche says to wake Italy up is from Episode 51, when Germany uses it to wake him up for training. Seychelles lullaby is "Doucement s'en va le jour"; you can see the full lyrics and download an .mp3 here: . Um... this episode is pretty much filler. xD I wanna torture you all by dragging out the search for Germany as long as I possibly can D Is he alive? Is he dead? Damn, we're gonna find out. At the Nightingale, tonight~ /Repo!Graverobber voice. Anyway, it's a bit shorter yes, but again not much goes on in this chapter other than their arrival in Germany. Hope you liked it n.n I was thinking of maybe starting a drabble kind of story alongside this, with snippets leading up to Seychelles capture, including France's descent into Insanity and Seychelles fleeing her island. And a couple other things. Tell me what you think, ne? n.n

**Translation**

**Italian:**

Non essere triste, Seyche… – Don't be sad, Seyche…

Germania – Germany

Finito! – Finished!

Vediamo… - Let's see…


	8. Yet You Fear Me

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine but the crappy poem that makes up chapter titles.

* * *

Chapter Eight

**Yet you fear me**

_"Every man is afraid of something. That's how you know he's in love with you; when he is afraid of losing you."_

_- Anonymous_

* * *

Our streak of luck seemed to hold as Italy and I snuck through Germany. Once we found the river flowing out of Rostock, the two of us followed it through the destroyed nation. There were ruins everywhere, and after a day or so (it was hard to keep track of the day now) we stopped seeing anything of color. Everything was gray, or a dingy, ash brown. For the first few days, neither Italy nor I saw a single living soul, and I was beginning to feel lost. Not lost in that we didn't know where we were going – Italy assured me the river went through the Berlin area – but just _lost_. Doubt plagued my mind; was Germany even alive? We hadn't seen a single German survivor, or any life at all… was it even possible for a nation to survive devastation this bad? There were bodies, skeletons, and those damn burnt shadows all around us, and I began to feel trapped. I wanted to save Germany; I wanted to know my friend was okay, but the further we got into what was once his strong nation, the more I began to feel that we would never find him. Or, if we did… we would be finding his body.

I kept my concerns to myself, so Italy wouldn't get any more worried than he seemed to be. He was a wreck; Italy cried himself to sleep every night, and would always ask me if I thought Germany was alive (I told him yes, regardless of how I really felt). I knew that he loved Germany more than anyone else, and this was so hard on him. The worst times were the silences. When Italy would fall silent and would not spoke until spoken to, and even then only provided one-word answers. I could see that he was on the verge of collapse, and he mirrored exactly how I felt on the inside. We were both on the verge, holding onto the thin spider's thread of hope that was Germany. I didn't want to lose a friend again… Italy didn't want to lose the man he loved.

Even if, deep down inside, we both knew that Germany was more than likely dead.

About halfway to Berlin (by Italy's calculations on where we were in relation to the river) we saw the French Empire. They were moving through Germany to the battle lines at Russia's borders. Russia hadn't been breached yet, and the man was proving immune to every attempt at making him Insane. Probably because he already was, and always would be… though to a lesser degree than anyone else. Italy and I hid when we heard footsteps, and I put a finger to my lips when he tried to speak. The footfalls were heavy, and I looked around the pile of rubble we were hiding behind to see a huge group of soldiers, multiple platoons, marching through the dilapidated streets to one of the few surviving bridges across the river. They wore outfits like I had seen at the camp by Copenhagen, but where slightly different depending on their nation of origin. I could see French, Spanish, and Japanese troops. The only consistent mark on them all was the fleur de lis stitched into their uniforms. Identifying them as French Empire troops, regardless of where they were from originally. I felt cold, and whipped back behind the rubble before any of them could look back and see me. They weren't looking for us, so it was best to just stay hidden and let them go.

"Seyche, wh-where are they going?" Italy whispered next to me. The soldiers were far enough off that they wouldn't hear him if he kept his voice down.

I stayed silent for a moment longer, listening to their footsteps as they died off, before turning to him, "Russia, I think… that's where most of the fighting is right now, right?"

He nodded, "Sì, penso di sì." I didn't miss it when Italy shivered. It was very cold out, with no direct sunlight to warm us, and I had been doing my best to keep my own cold to myself. Italy's uniform and my dress and jacket were in even worse tatters, from climbing up and over rubble and sleeping on dirty, broken concrete. I didn't want him to be cold, so I started to slip off the jacket he had given me when we snuck out of the Alliance camp (it seemed so long ago, but was in reality only about a week). Italy grabbed my hands to stop me and shook his head, "No, Seyche. I know you're freezing too."

"But Feliciano, I'm used to all this. You are not," I pointed out. He had been with the Alliance since the beginning of the war, as far as I knew. I was used to sleeping outside with little shelter or warmth; survival skills were something you had to acquire when on the run through ruined terrain for ten years. I cared more about him than I do about myself, anyway. Italy was distraught, and being around him was like waiting a ticking time bomb. He wasn't used to all this, and I didn't know how much longer he could handle it.

"No, Seyche," Italy slid the jacket back up my arms and forced a shaking smile. I could see how hard he was trying to be his usual happy self… but in this ruined world, that wasn't possible.

I sighed and pulled the jacket tight around me. He was still a stubborn little Italian, at least. Italy hadn't changed too much, and maybe if we found Germany, he would return to his happy self. _If_ we found Germany. _If_ he was alive.

We waited until the soldiers footsteps died out to come out of hiding. I let Italy across the street, and we darted into an alleyway just in time; more French Empire troops rounded the corner, marching for the bridge. I flattened against the wall of a nearby building and Italy followed my lead. I was the one with ten years of experience in sneaking around French Empire troops, and this area was suddenly crawling with them. I bent over and began to creep through the alley, eyes and ears open for any movement or sound other than our own. Italy trembled behind me, and I could hear a frightened "Ve…" from the other nation. He mirrored how scared I felt inside. What if we were caught? I was immune to Insanity, but Italy wasn't. I didn't… I didn't want to lose another friend, bon sang! We couldn't get caught; I would _not_ let us get caught.

After a few minutes of sneaking between buildings and rubble, and hiding from French Empire soldiers, I heard speaking. Two heavily accented voices, one of which I knew quite well. Italy stiffened behind me, then tried to run passed me, but I flung my arm out and smacked into his chest. I shot him a look and he fell silent, realization dawning on his face. Japan and China were just around the corner and in our way. We hid behind a broken down car parked across this alley exit and waited.

"彼らはここにいつでも通り抜ける必要があります," I couldn't understand what Japan was saying. I knew a little Japanese from my days in World Academy W's manga club with him, but he spoke so fast that I couldn't catch any of it.

"我们不应该对德国吗？" That strange language of China's made even less sense to me. Italy whimpered next to me. I knew how he felt; Japan was our friend, and seeing him with the French Empire like this…

"いいえ," Japan sighed. I could hear him pace a bit, bringing him closer to us. My eyes widened, and for a moment I stopped breathing, "Furansu wants to capture Seisherru and Itaria. They wirr be coming through here rooking for Doitsu."

"How do you know, aru?"

Another sigh from Japan, "Because it makes sense, and-" he came even closer, and Italy whimpered again. I shot him a look, hoping to all the gods that Japan hadn't heard him. There was silence as I crouched, holding my breath again, waiting for them to continue. Please, _please_ don't let Japan hear us…

"Did you hear that, aru?"

I paled. Japan hadn't heard Italy, but China had. I shuffled back a few steps as Japan called back for some of the soldiers and the two started towards our hiding place. Oh gods… I couldn't let them catch us. No, no… I _wouldn't_ let them catch us. I looked at Italy, whose face was completely ashen at this point. He looked at me with a half-scared, half-pleading look. Italy had no idea what to do. I scanned the alleyway, looking for any way out. We couldn't just run out of the alley; there were too many soldiers around, and we would be caught for sure. Then I saw it, and knew what to do.

"Run," I whispered, pausing only for a second before grabbing Italy's hand and bolting back down the alley. He hesitated, but I jerked him forward, pulling Italy down the alley and to the nearest blown-out doorway. It was close by, and I saw China through a window before I dropped to the floor, pulling Italy down with me. My heart was beating hard in my chest, and I could feel sweat break out across my face despite the cold. That was a little too close.

"I don't see anything," Japan said.

It was China's turn to sigh, "Oh. Must've been my imagination, aru."

They talked a bit longer, mostly in Japanese or Chinese, so I couldn't understand a word they were saying. After what seemed like an eternity, they walked away, their footsteps dying off and mixing with the soldiers a ways off. Once I was sure that no one was within earshot, I rounded on Italy, "Feli, you need to be _quiet_, or you'll get us caught!"

"L… lo so," Italy grimaced. He was perched on the ground, surrounded by crushed glass from the window, with sagging shoulders and such a forlorn expression. It was so unlike him… my expression softened, and I drew him into a hug. Italy whimpered again, wrapping his arms around me, "It's just… it's Giappone, Seyche! I… I…" He trailed off and started to sob. I did my best to shush him, but Italy will always be Italy.

"It's okay… we'll talk when we get out of here, okay?" I forced a smile and held Italy's shoulders, pushing him back so I could look him in the face.

He sniffed and nodded, looking even more forlorn and tired than before. I tried my best to keep the smile before turning away from Italy and peeking over the windowsill. It was clear… ish, so I grabbed Italy's hand and we climbed out the window that put us on the other side of the wrecked car. We dashed across the street into another alley as the last footsteps of the French Empire troops died away. We snuck through the ruins still, and I stopped Italy whenever he tried to stand fully or stop. We needed to put distance between us and the French troops. France had sent China and Japan after us. They would not stop looking for us until we were caught. France would never stop looking for me.

"Seyche, sono stanco…" Italy whined as I helped him over a particularly large pile of rubble.

I jumped off the concrete ruin and held my arms up, helping Italy down the other side, "I know, Feli… just a bit longer and we can stop for a-"

"Ne bougez pas!"

We both froze, and I heard the sound of a gun cock back. We'd been caught, "Tournez-vous. _Lentement._ Et mettez vos mains." I did as the soldier instructed, and kicked Italy in the calf to break him out of his shock to do the same. We slowly turned to face the man and raised our hands. There was him and a couple others, and I had heard the sound of feet running away as we turned.

"Si vous êtes le pays des Seychelles et de l'Italie?" The 'Leader' asked.

My eyes flickered to Italy. He looked beyond scared. His entire body was shaking like a leaf, whereas I was calm and resolved. We had been caught, and I took the blame for it. Italy would become Insane in a short time, and I would be taken to France. Taken to France… as much as my heart wanted that, my mind knew it would be my undoing.

"Oui," I said before Italy could speak. Lying about being nations would just lead to us being killed. The French Empire seldom took human prisoners.

His eyes flickered down to the pistol at Italy's hip and the Desert Eagle in my boot, "Glissez vos armes plus len-"

"停止する。"Japan came from around the corner of a fallen building with another man. His face was set in stone, and his expression was hard.

"K-Kiku!" Italy's eyes widened and he took a step towards the man, only stopping because of the click of the soldiers' guns. What color was left on my Italian friends face was gone then, and he stumbled back a few steps.

"Italy… Seychelles," Something flickered through Japan's eyes. Recognition? Happiness? I couldn't be sure, but it wasn't there when France first caught me. Japan's eyes fell on me, "France was furious when you reft." I felt a sheen of sweat break out again at the thought, "But he knows you werr and knew you wourd come here. Now, sride your weapons over then forrow us." My eyes flickered away, looking for any way to escape. Something duck behind, some window to jump into. Something, _anything_. Japan saw my hesitation to obey his orders, and he whipped out his own gun, pointing it between Italy's eyes. We both jumped at this; this wasn't the Japan we knew. The Japan we knew would _never_ point a gun at Italy, especially so flippantly.

I slowly knelt down and started to draw the Desert Eagle out of my boot when a shot was fired and gas grenades thrown between us and Japan. Italy froze but I reacted, grabbing his hand and dashing down the streets, pulling myself and Italy sharply left between two buildings when the French Empire troops opened fire. Whoever it was that saved us, they were booking it as well, because the only gunfire I heard was coming from where the French Empire was.

Italy and I ran as far and as fast as our tired legs would carry us, vaguely aware of the sound of running somewhere far behind. A bullet glanced off the concrete next to me, and I flinched when little bits of cement scratched my face. That didn't stop me, however, and I just kept running, dragging Italy along whenever he hesitated. Then we turned a corner and I was abruptly pulled into a building, dragging Italy along with me. The door was swung closed, and I whipped out my gun to point it at whoever had pulled us in. If it was a soldier… I would not go back there. I couldn't go back there.

"Warten Sie. Beruhigen Sie sich," The voice was hushed, and it continued to pull us deeper inside the dark, torn down building. Italy tried to say something, but I shushed him before he could, and the three of us grew silent. Footsteps rushed by without stopping at the rotten door, and none of us spoke until the sound had died out completely.

"Svizzera!" Italy pulled his hand from mine and embraced the dark man, who stumbled back with a gasp.

"Get off me before I beat you vith my Peace Prize," The man growled and shoved Italy away. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I could make out the form of a nation I had only seen a few times; Switzerland. There was a rifle slung across his back, and I could see a few gas grenades in a snug belt around his waist. He looked remarkably healthy and well for someone whose nation was nuked just as badly as Germany. Well, he looked better than Italy and I, anyway.

"Switzerland…? Did you… were you the one who rescued us?" I asked cautiously. He didn't look nor act Insane, but after ten years of running and dealing with France, I had learned that looks were often deceiving. I shivered as an image of France, face peppered with worry over my injury alongside him just a few minutes later, eyes dark with Insanity, flashed into my head.

Switzerland didn't answer me at first; he moved to the door and edge it open a bit, looking around for any signs of soldiers. It looked like he didn't see anything, because he sighed, closed the door again, and took out a flashlight, "Ja. I vas looking for supplies and just happened across you two. Vhat are you doing out here?" His voice was intense, even a little angry, though it seemed to be aimed more for Italy than for me.

"We're looking for Germania!" Italy said with some of his usual vigor back in his voice. Switzerland froze for a second, a fact that I didn't miss, "Iggy wouldn't send anyone, so we snuck out of the Alliance base and came here!"

"Denmark's quite a vays from here," Switzerland crossed his arms, "That is one of da three main battle lines too. How did you manage it?"

"I… I've been on the run for ten years," I said, looking away from him at the grimy ground of the building, "And we were lucky; today was the first run in we've had with the Empire." I didn't tell him about the French Empire base outside Copenhagen. If it wasn't for my stupid desire to see France again, we would have gotten in and out of there with no trouble.

"Ich verstehe…" Switzerland leaned against a slab on concrete that was piercing through one wall, "You came all dis vay looking for Deutschland?" He closed his eyes and sighed, "And you left an Alliance base to do it?" Switzerland looked up, his eyes locking with mine, "'ave you lost your _mind?_"

I blushed, and once again looked away from Switzerland's stern gaze. He was right, after all; we didn't know if Germany was even alive at this point, and had thrown ourselves into such danger to find him… but I didn't regret it. We needed some hope, after all, or we should just give in. My hands clenched into fists, and my head swung up, mouth open to yell at him. Italy beat me to it.

"England told us Germany is dead!" Italy just about shouted. Even in the darkness, I could see that he was crying, "I don't believe him. It's not true. Seyche and I… we already lost Giappone to the Insanity, and… and…" He let out a frustrated noise and beat his chest just over his heart with one hand, "I won't lose Ludwig! I won't, dannazione! I…" He slid to the ground, and I fell to his side. He sobbed once, "I don't want to believe he's gone…" My expression softened, and I rubbed Italy's back with one hand, the other slung across his chest in a hug.

Switzerland fell silent, watching me comfort Italy with a stoic expression. He looked like he was deliberating, and his brow furrowed in concentration. Then it struck me; Switzerland was in Germany, not too far from Berlin. Could he possibly know something?

"Switzerland, do you… do you know if Germany's alive?" I asked. Italy froze, and he slowly looked up at Switzerland, rubbing his tears away with his sleeve. His eyes were dull, but with a spark of hope in them that I had seen fade since we left Denmark.

He hesitated, looking down at us with an enigmatic look in his eyes. After a minute or so, Switzerland sighed and closed his eyes, kicking off the cement slab and moving around us to the back of the room. There were a few bags there, probably stuffed with the supplies he had been looking for. He turned away from us and knelt down next to them, rummage through the bags and pulling out a flask of water and some small pieces of bread. He tossed the flask at Italy and the bread to me before finally answering, "… Yes, Ludwig is alive."

I didn't miss the hesitation in his tone, but Italy jumped up immediately, his eyes wide, "Davvero? Ludwig vivo? Dove si trova?" He dropped the flask, which I caught, and stomped over to Switzerland, kneeling down to grab the other nation's hands. His voice was nothing short of pleading, "Dove?"

Switzerland looked up at Italy in alarm, then quickly away with a grimace. He was hesitating again, and I couldn't help but think why? His hesitation didn't seem right to me; if Germany was alive, why didn't he just tell us where he was? Then we could get him, maybe take him back to the Alliance or something…

"Per favore ... dove è Ludwig, Basch?" Italy whined. He sobbed again, this time out of happiness and from all his emotions crashing down at once. I knew how he felt, and could feel tears come to my own eyes. Germany was alive. _He was alive._

Switzerland took in a deep breath and held it for a moment before sighing heavily, "He is…" He gritted his teeth together, then his shoulders sagged in defeat, "He is in Berlin. I 'ave been… staying vith him."

Italy squealed and lunged forward, enveloping a flustered Switzerland in a tight hug, "Grazie, grazie!"

"Get off me! St-stop dat!" Switzerland sputtered and pushed the Italian off him again. He scrambled to his feet, and even in the darkness I could see a bit of a blush. He took a few quick steps back, and huffed a few times before calming down enough to speak again, "Don't. I'll take you to Deutschland, but don't hug me again, Italien."

Italy squealed again, and made to ignore Switzerland and hug him again, but the other nation stepped out of the way and Italy fell to the ground. I couldn't help but giggle, feeling elated at the information that Germany was alive, and that Switzerland knew where he was and would take us to him.

"We vill 'ave to move quickly," Switzerland went back to the bags and picked some up, slinging them across his shoulders, "Grab some bags and come vith me." I nodded and picked up a couple myself, then helped Italy up so he could get the rest. Switzerland led us out, eyes all alert for even the slightest hint of danger.

I felt so happy that Germany was alive, but something gnawed at my insides. Switzerland seemed hesitant to even speak about Germany, much less tell us he was alive. That hesitation… it scared me.

We headed out, towards Berlin, with renewed hope… though I couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Herro! Um… I decided to try and show accents in some of the characters speech, hence all of Japan's L's coming out at R's and Switzy having a slight German accent (Around 80% or so of Swiss speak German). I'll probably go back and edit in the accent to a few characters, like France, when I get bored. This IS a work in progress, after all xD;;; Uhm.. Also, someone asked me what some of the characters look like in Nightingale, and I decided to draw them. Here's France: .com/#/d3asv6f and here is Seychelles: .com/#/d3asv6f . If the links don't work, google 'Mitsukaimizuamaya deviantart' to find my Deviantart account. For some reason links have a tendency to vanish when I try to put them here, like in the last chapter =.= . Seychelles was a bit more rushed, so she may get reuploaded with more grime and some added highlights. If you wanna see any others, or if you draw your own (a friend of mine wants to draw Germany when I get to him), tell me and I'll post it in the next chapter for everyone to see! n.n

**Translation:**

**Italian:**

Sì, penso di sì. – Yeah, I think so.

Lo so – I know

Giappone – Japan

Sono stanco. – I'm tired

Svizzera – Switzerland

Germania – Germany

dannazione! – dammit!

Davvero? Ludwig vivo? Dove si trova? Dove? – Really? Ludwig's alive? Where is he? Where?

Per favore ... dove è Ludwig, Basch? – Please… where is Ludwig, Basch?

Grazie, grazie! – Thank you, thank you!

**French:**

bon sang! – dammit!

Ne bougez pas! – Don't move!

Tournez-vous. Lentement. Et mettez vos mains. - Turn around. Slowly. And put your hands up.

Si vous êtes le pays des Seychelles et de l'Italie? – Are you the nations Seychelles and Italy?

Oui – yes

Glissez vos armes plus lentement. – Slide your weapons over slowly.

**Japanese:**

彼らはここにいつでも通り抜ける必要があります。- They should be coming through here any time.

いいえ – No

Furansu – France

Seisherru – Seychelles

Doitsu – Germany

停止する。- Stop.

**Chinese:**

我们不应该对德国吗？ - Should we not be looking for Germany?

**German:**

Warten Sie. Beruhigen Sie sich. – Wait. Calm down.

Ja – yes

Ich verstehe... – I see...

Deutschland – Germany

Italien - Italy


	9. That Is Fine, That Is Fine

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine but the crappy poem that makes up chapter titles.

* * *

Chapter Nine

**That is fine, that is fine**

"_Love is a disease of the heart… in the end, there is no treatment curable and it might just kill you."_

_- Betsy Johnson

* * *

_

It took another two days to beat Berlin, which was a lot faster than Italy and I would have gotten there without Switzerland's help. He knew what he was doing; where all the back alleys were, where all the 'safe' areas were, what roads were blocked, what areas were swarming with French Empire troops. Italy knew Germany, sure, but Switzerland knew Germany post-war. More than once, Italy had suggested taking on route that he remembered from the days before the war, and Switzerland would shut him down by saying that the area was a camp of the French Empire or that a building had toppled over and blocked the path.

Then we reached Berlin, and I could feel a very tired Italy behind me on the verge of collapse again. Berlin was nothing but a pile of concrete. No building seemed to be standing, and rubble was so thick that the three of us were maneuvering through spaces three feet wide, sometimes squeezing through two foot gaps, to get around. Now I could see why the French Empire hadn't found Germany yet, despite the fact that they seemed to be actively looking for him; Berlin was the perfect place to hide if you never wanted to be found. There were little nooks and crannies everywhere, and alcoves like the one Italy and I hid in when running from soldiers outside Copenhagen. It made me nervous, however; there were so many places to hide, but it all felt so claustrophobic. I felt myself looking over my shoulder constantly, worried that someone would find us in a particularly narrow place and we would be trapped. My heart beat against my chest and my hands shook. Switzerland told us to be as quiet as possible, because there were troops in the area, and I could hear footsteps every so often. A few times I swore I could hear French.

'_Oh gods, please… please don't let them catch us,'_ I begged as my shaking worsened. Switzerland looked back and stopped when he saw me, then he led the two of us inside what was left of a building. It was dark and so demolished by this point that it was only ten feet wide, if that. Switzerland walked right up to Italy and I and said in a deadpan, "I am not going to put Deutschland in danger by taking you to him if you can't calm down." He checked over the bags and took the rifle off from around his shoulders.

"Th… they're _everywhere_," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. Italy wrapped his arms around me; he was better off than me, strangely enough. I didn't like the confined spaces, with soldiers so close. It reminded me of running from France after he took over my islands. Running, hiding, being found, running again. Waiting and watching with bated breath as a soldier neared by newest hiding place, wishing to all the gods of any religion I could name that _they didn't find me, but they always seemed to no matter how hard I tried._

I looked up, over Italy's shoulder, to stare at Switzerland with wide eyes, "H-how…? H-how have you managed here?" I spoke in hushed tones, and flinched when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the rubble _directly above us_.

"Bringing in supplies vhen I could, that's how," He muttered, flipping out his flashlight again, searching through the rubble of this tiny room. He stopped at a large cement slab, and shifted it just enough to reveal a sewer grate. Switzerland pulled it up with the least amount of noise possible and motioned for the two of us.

Italy let me go and took my hand, leading me over to Switzerland, "Ve… what's down there?"

"The sewer," Switzerland deadpanned, leaning down to shine his flashlight before tossing in his bags, than taking mine and Italy's and doing the same. He motioned for Italy to take his hands and be let down the hole, a fact that neither of us liked very much at all. He huffed in annoyance, "Look, if you vant to see Ludwig, ven do as I say."

Italy hesitated before sighing and taking Switzerland's help. He was lowered into the dark abyss, and I was alone with the older nation. He turned to me, offering his hands again, and I heard more footsteps of the soldiers above us. I didn't want to go down there. It was dark, and though the darkness was usually a comfort to me, total pitch black darkness also hid whatever horrors were hiding. How long had it been since Switzerland had returned from this supply trip? Maybe this hideout of his had been found. Maybe it was swarming with soldiers. Maybe… maybe France was there.

"It's safe," Switzerland assured me, answering the questions of my thoughts.

"H-how do you know?" I looked into the darkness and flinched. Italy looked up at me from the disgusting-smelling sewers for a moment before taking up his bags again.

Switzerland sighed, "I spoke Vith Germany last night vonce we got vithin range of my radio."

I froze and Italy gasped, "Cosa? Perché non ci rac-?"

"Ruhig sein!" Switzerland hissed. His tone shut the Italian up, and to my alarm I discovered why; the footsteps had stopped. My breath caught in my throat, and for a few terrified moments I waited for the sound of rushed feet and for the door to fly open. That never happened, and after a minute of tense silence, the footsteps started again. All three of us sighed in relief, and Switzerland glared into the darkness of the sewer, while Italy muttered an apology. He again offered me his hands, and I grudgingly took them. He helped me into the hole and Italy caught me before Switzerland let me go.

The only light was from Switzerland's flashlight, and unlike most sewers, there was no damp or water at all. Everything was dry, dark, and crusted with filth. Italy handed my bags as Switzerland jumped into the hole behind us, then pulled the cover back over it. He took point again, leading us through the dank sewer tunnel. I stuck close to Italy and Switzerland, holding the hand of the latter as the both of us jumped at every sound. Even our footsteps echoed here when they hit a patch of cracked sewer cement that wasn't as caked with grime as the rest. The air was much, much colder, and I wrapped my jacket around me even tighter with the hand not clinging to Italy. Switzerland walked just a foot or two ahead of us with a flashlight in one hand and a rifle in the other.

"H-how far is it?" I said after jumping again and the sound of footsteps above us. There were many of them now, like we were right under an open street. I realized we probably were, and my blood ran cold. What were Switzerland and Germany _doing_ in the place crawling with so many French Empire soldiers? How had they not been _found_ yet?

"Not much farther," Switzerland grumbled, turning yet another corner in this maze of sewers beneath the even worse maze of Berlin.

After probably a half hour of traversing the sewers, Switzerland stopped at a heavy, rusted door. He took out a small key and unlocked it before turning to us, "Stay here." I would have protested had he given me the chance, but before I could get a sound out, Switzerland was already inside. He was only gone for a second or two before opening the door the rest of the way and letting us in, closing the locking the door behind us.

The room was as dark as the sewers until Switzerland pulled some matches off a counter and lit thick candles placed around the room. There were crates stacked haphazardly around with random things scattered. The room was small claustrophobically small, but there was another door in the back that I moved to before Switzerland stopped me.

"I need to talk to Germany before you see him."

"Germany's in there?" Italy said, hesitating for a moment before launching himself at the door, "Germania! Ludwig, Ludwig, it's-"

"How many times do I have to tell you to _shut up_?" Switzerland hissed again before slamming his rifle down and dropping his bags. He wrenched Italy from the door just as he got it open, slipped inside, and shut the thick door before I could see much inside at all.

What I did see made my face pale.

An I.V. drip.

"Mon dieu…" A hand flew to my mouth, and I stumbled back until my back hit the rusted door. Italy tried to open the door Switzerland went through, but almost screamed from frustration when he found it locked, "Feli… Feli stop." I got it now.

Why Switzerland was so hesitant to talk about Germany.

Why Germany was stuck in Berlin, despite the infestation of the French Empire.

"Fammi entrare! Germania! Germania! Svizzera, aprire ques-!" I ran to Italy and pulled him away from the door before he could pound on it anymore. At this point, I didn't know how far we were underground or how much rubble was above us, or where French troops may be hiding. The noise Italy was making would not help keep us hidden, and if I was right… I needed to prepare Italy.

"Seyche, let me go!" Italy yelled, pulling against me. He was stronger than I, but I had to get him to stop freaking out, or he would only get worse when we saw Germany.

"Feliciano Vargas!" He froze when I used his full human name, "I need you to listen. I th-think… I think Ludwig might-"

The door opened just a crack, and Switzerland stuck his head into the room. I couldn't see passed him to confirm my suspicions, but the look on his face was grim, "Deutschland's avake. Just keep your voice _down_, Italien, and do not…" He looked away from us and grimaced, "Just be careful around him."

Italy grew still, and gulped noisily. I looked up at him to see his face gone completely white. He was beginning to put the pieces together… and the picture wasn't very pretty. Shaking like a leaf, Italy pulled away from me and we walked across the tiny room to the door. He and Switzerland exchanged a long look before the blonde slowly opened the door and moved out of the way.

My eyes widened, and I gasped, both hands flying to my mouth. Italy managed three of four steps into the room before his knees gave out.

The room was barely bigger than the last one, with another sewer grate in one corner. There were only a few crates in here, and what room there was was cluttered with old medical equipment probably salvaged from the remains of the nearest hospital. In a torn up old chair at one end of the room was a disheveled Austria, clad in an old, torn military uniform much like Switzerland's and wearing glasses that were broken and patched up in several places. His expression was worn and tired, and he fixed Italy with a stare akin to pity. There was an old bed in the back center of the room with an I.V. filled with clear liquid next to it and various bloodied bandages and looted medications surrounding the room around it. I could smell the pungent scent of medical-grade alcohol and the only light in the room came from a great number of candles. Most of the room was just as worn and broken as the one we left, but none of it could compare to the state of the one in bed.

To say Germany was 'alive' was being generous at best, lying as worst.

Tears stung at my eyes as I stared at my friend in shock. He was propped up by pillows against the wall and in bed, blankets and sheets pulled around him. I could see that he had done his best to hide his state before we came in, but there was no covering the mess of torn flesh that was Germany.

He was shirtless, and every inch of exposed skin was hacked up like he had been thrown in a meat grinder. What wasn't cut up was covered in bandages, and some parts of Germany had taken on the off-green tone of infection. There was a large wound on his neck that looked like it had been hastily bandaged recently, and blood was already seeping through the bandage. He looked barely lucid, eyes half-lidded and breath coming out in pained, ragged gasps. He sounded so pained that broken ribs were probably part of the long list of injuries covering his body. Germany's hair was splattered with blood, along with his bed and all of his body, and his head was bandaged to cover up a nasty wound. The bandages on his head extended down, covering his right eye as well. He looked so worn, so utterly spent, yet even in his near-death state, Germany had a smile. A small, genuinely happy smile for Italy and Italy alone. He looked like he wanted to take the trembling and tearful Italy into his arms and tell him everything would be okay. It wasn't even possible for Germany to properly hug the Italian in his state.

He was missing his entire right arm, after all.

All that was left of the limb was a tightly bandaged stump of a shoulder, and I sobbed at the sight of it and what my strong friend had become. The I.V. drip must be painkillers than, because most of the wounds were either fresh, or refusing to heal. How was Germany even _alive_? It didn't seem possible to me. He had so many injuries, he was so pale, and there was just _so much blood_.

"Mon dieu… Ludwig…" I managed to choke out as Switzerland closed the door behind us. How had this _happened?_ Who had done this to Germany?

His gaze didn't leave Italy, probably because even moving his head would strain something, but he spoke to both of us, "… been… a-about thirt… een years, 'asn't… i… t…?"

"Ludwig…" Italy sobbed. His shoulders shook, he buried his head in his hands, and wailed. Austria, Switzerland, and I started, and I was about to tell Italy to keep his voice down when he launched himself at Germany. He got to Germany before anyone could stop him and pulled the critically injured man into a huge.

"Feliciano, stop!" Austria commanded when Germany cried out in pain.

Italy jumped away from our German friend when he yelled, eyes wide. Germany winced and fell forward, gripping his bloody stump with a pained expression. Switzerland and Austria jumped to his side wearing identical masks of worry. Austria forced Germany back and Switzerland immediately checked that the flow to the I.V. hadn't been disrupted by Italy's outburst.

Seeing that it hadn't, he rounded on Italy, "That's vhy I didn't vant to bring you!" Switzerland growled, "Deutschland is dying, and hurting him further von't fix a fucking-!"

"Basch, z-zu… stoppen," He fell silent when Germany spoke. We all looked at him as he weakly batted Austria off with his remaining arm. Germany leaned back and closed his eyes, taking a couple shallow breaths before speaking again, "Don't be… h-hard on Feli… vat's just how 'e is…"

"Schweiz, did you find any clean water?" Austria looked up at the blonde from beside Germany.

Switzerland nodded, and pulled a small canteen from one of the bags, "Not much; here." He tossed it at the other nation, who then helped Germany to take some sips through cracked, parched lips.

"Ich kann… mich tr-trinken, ich bin nicht so viel von einer un… ungültigen, Ös…terreich," Germany took the canteen. He sounded a bit clearer, a bit stronger, but I still couldn't see past the blood, wounds, and infections plaguing my friend to see any way for him to survive much longer. Austria hovered around him and Italy collapsed, crying, on the other side of Germany's bed. Germany weakly moved his remaining hand to Italy head and weaved it through his hair. I felt a tear slide down my cheek at the sight of them.

After a few moments of silence, I finally found my voice and turned to Switzerland, "Wh… wh… what? H-how?" I couldn't seem to articulate what I meant; I wanted to know how this _happened_. How was Germany even _alive_?

"I… I vas…" Germany dissolved into a fit of coughs, startling Italy enough that he jumped up and looked around helplessly. His eyes fell on Switzerland, who only shook his head. They didn't have much of anything to help the dying Germany.

"I'll explain," Austria offered, "I've been vith Ludwig longer." He called over Switzerland, and the two lowered Germany back into the bed properly, despite the man's protests. He was bigger than both of them, and previously stronger, but in his current state, even I was stronger than Germany.

When Germany was settled, Austria moved his chair closer to the bed for Italy, who refused to move and had taken Germany's hand in his own. Once that was done, he spoke, "The war started fifteen years ago. Germany and I sided vith the Alliance immediately and Switzerland stayed neutral, as usual." Austria moved around the bed to grab a small bowl of slightly bloodied water and a cloth, handing them to Italy so he could dab Germany's feverish head with it, "Germany vas fine until the nukes destroyed everything. He… was hit harder than most, and lost his arm in the Battle of Dresden. After the nukes, Germany's wounds stopped healing naturally altogether. I don't… I don't think he has too much longer; we can't risk moving him to get to the Alliance, especially vith all the French troops around. If we had the _supplies_, then he could be stabilized until the war is over and Germany restored, but…" Austria grimaced and looked away from us, "I've been vith him since the beginning of the war…"

"Austria…" Germany slowly tore his gaze from Italy to look at the other man, his gaze soft. Austria looked down at him with a pained expression before turning away, busying himself with replacing the I.V. drip.

The silence was uncomfortable until Switzerland spoke up, "I've been vith them for five years. After the bombs destroyed mine and Lili's land and France invaded, we ran. For five years we managed to keep out of the French Empire, trying to find other straggling nations and get them to the Alliance before France could get them… then, five years ago, we were caught." The memory seemed to pain him, and I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It didn't help any, "… Liechtenstein and I were cornered off some cliffs in Italy. She… she pushed me off the cliff when Spain found us and vas caught by the French Empire. I don't know what France has done vith her. Vhere she is, vhat she's doing, if she's even _alive_." Switzerland's hands clenched into fists, and his expression contorted into a mix of rage and sadness, "I tried to find out vhere he vas keeping her, and stumbled upon Austria here. Since then… I've been helping him care for Germany, as vell as searching for Lili."

"Switzerland… Austria…" I looked between the two once-strong nations before my gaze flickered down to Germany and Italy. They looked like they were in their own world; Germany focused on Italy with a hand on his cheek and Italy holding the man's hand there, wearing the saddest expression I had ever seen.

There was silence again as Austria and Italy set about changing Germany's wounds. I had to turn away then; some of them were nasty, and made my stomach churn at the sight of them. Especially the bloody stump where his arm should have been. Switzerland saw my distress, and was about to lead me out when Germany spoke up.

"Nein," He weakly batted Austria away again, but let Italy continue propping him up for bandages, "Don't l-leave yet. I still… need to tell Seychellen…"

"About vhat?" Austria said, a bit put off by being swatted away again.

I turned from the door and Switzerland to see Germany looking directly at me with as intense a stare as he could muster in his state, "I need to tell her… vhy Frankreich is after her, und vhat his ultimate goal is… even if he hasn't realized it yet."

Once again, I felt myself grow cold at the mention of France. Switzerland and Austria exchanged a look as Germany patted a small portion of the bed that he wasn't sprawled on. I went over and sat down at the edge of it, feeling scared at being so close to someone who was obviously dying. I had never seen a nation dying before, and it scared me.

He forced a smile that turned into a wince as Italy finished the bandages on his torso. Germany looked a bit better now, with the new supplies Switzerland had brought and the clean water in his parched system. Italy took his place next to Germany, and then he spoke, "I vas Insane of the same caliber of France vonce…" Germany looked down at his hand and moved his stiff fingers a bit, "During Vorld Var Vone… I vas responsible for the death of millions in za concentration… c-camps." Germany winced at the memory.

"But… but Germany, that was Hitler, not-" Italy started to protest, but was cut off by Germany

"Nein; it vas me as vell," He shook his head, "You don't remember, Feliciano, and I'm glad for zat. Za first to fall to Insanity remember za longest – und za most vividly. I remember… how it felt, towards the end." Germany couldn't look up at us. He was struggling, I could tell, and Switzerland and Austria exchanged glances again. They wanted to stop him speaking, but didn't, "I destroyed lives, homes, families, my own people… und I _enjoyed every second of it_."

Italy and I gasped and my hands flew to my mouth again. I had heard stories of World War II and studied it at World Academy W. I knew of the concentration camps, the gas chambers, the ghettos. But to hear straight from the horse's mouth that he had _enjoyed _the slaughter…

"Vait; hear me out," Germany slowly raised a hand to silence the two of us, "It vas za Insanity. It made me… change. I vanted to destroy everything, yet at za same time… consume it all. The Insane… no matter za reason zey give you, no matter vhat zey say… in the end, after so long of being Insane, every one of us vants za same thing; to consume the world and destroy it."

"But… but Francis would never-"

Germany cut me off this time, "Nein, Frankreich would not; za French Empire would." He looked up at me, "… but France hasn't even reached zat level yet. Neither did I, though I vas close…"

"But… but Kiku, and Heracles… they've got to know what France is planning!" Italy argued, not wanting to believe his older brother or friends would do something like that. I didn't either, but Germany knew more about the Insanity than anyone else.

Germany shook his head, "Zey couldn't stop him if zey tried."

"Why?" I asked.

He took in a shaky breath, "It… is l-like a ant hill, or a bee hive. France is za Queen, und all za other Insane nations und his soldiers are za drones. Za can't disobey him; it is just not possible. Zey vant vhat he vants. And right now, vhat Frankreich vants more zen anything… is you, Victoria."

My eyes widened and I felt the blood drain from my face. I felt like falling over, and Switzerland put a hand on either of my shoulders to steady me. I finally managed to choke out "Why?" again.

"Because you are za last bit of his old life," Germany wouldn't look me in the eye anymore, his gaze trained on Italy so he wouldn't have to, "You are immune to Insanity, like za other small nations, za micronations… und Switzerland, Russia, und myself. But beyond zat, you vere discovered by him, raised by him, taken away by England, and stayed by his side. You are so important to France, and your immunity makes it so you vill never end up like him. He vants you vith him to keep himself sane, to keep himself from being lost completely in Insanity."

"Then… then why don't I just go to him?" I asked as realization dawned on me; if I could help keep France sane, maybe I could help get him out of Insanity? Maybe… maybe if I tried hard enough to remind him of the world before all this…

"You can't," Germany shook his head, "… because if you go to him, and France wins the war… he is going to kill you."

"Non!" I argued, jumping off Germany's bed, "Francis would never… he would never-!"

"Again, France wouldn't… but za French Empire would," Germany murmured. He took in another shallow breath and dissolved into another painful coughing fit. Italy handed him a spare bit of bandages to use as a handkerchief, but Germany couldn't take away the cloth after coughing fast enough to not show all four of us the blood he's coughed up.

"Germany, I must insist you-" Austria started in alarm.

"Nein; I'm n-not finished yet," Germany argued in a tone that left no room for discussion. He leaned back at far as he could and took a few deep breaths (as deep as he could with broken ribs, anyway) before looking over at me, "France vill kill you because he loves you, Seychellen. If he succeeds in za war, it von't stop his Insanity. It vill only get vorse. He vill want to consume more, bring za nations under his control closer und closer… t-together." Germany's eyes locked with mine, and I felt frozen in place, "And vhen zat proved not to be close enough for him, he vill start killing them off, starting with za Insane vones. Zey von't be able to stop him. Zen, he vill come for those immune. He vill try to fight it, but in the end… his love for you vill only make him consume you last."

"I… I…" I didn't want to believe it. France, kill me? It didn't seem possible… yet I knew Germany was right. France would never kill me, but the French Empire that he had become could… and as Germany said, eventually would. It might take years, decades even, but someday, if he wasn't stopped… I would die by France's hand. I felt lightheaded, and wobbled a bit, stumbling backwards until Switzerland caught me.

France loved me, but would end up killing me against his will.

France was going to kill me.

A small part of me didn't mind so much, as long as it was France.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Germany is alive! Well, for now, but yay! xD;;; Don't have much to say here… except we get the rest of the information on the Insanity. What do you all think? France will eventually kill Seychelles against his will, unless he can be stopped. But can he? O:

**Translation:**

**German:**

Deutschland – Germany

Ruhig sein! – Be quiet!

Italien – Italy

Basch, zu stoppen. – Basch, stop.

Schweiz – Switzerland

Ich kann mich trinken, ich bin nicht so viel von einer ungültigen, Österreich. - I can drink myself; I'm not that much of an invalid, Austria.

Nein – no

Seychellen – Seychelles

Frankreich - France

**Italian:**

Cosa? Perché non ci rac-?– What? Why didn't you te-?

Fammi entrare! Germania! Germania! Svizzera, aprire ques-! – Let me in! Germany! Germany! Switzerland, open this-

**French:**

Mon dieu… - My god…

**Seychellois Kreole:**

Non! – No!


	10. I Love You

**Disclaimer:** Not mine n.n

* * *

Chapter Ten

**I Love You**

"_Do you know what hurts me? If you do not know what hurts me, then how can you love me?"_

_- Irwin Cotler

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_

"Seyche… what're we gonna do?" Italy asked me that night, the two of us huddled together by Germany's bedside. Switzerland and Austria were below us, in another mess of sewer tunnels connected by that grate in the corner. They were making sure it hadn't collapsed further, since it did lead outside city limits in case they got caught here. Germany was asleep, and the medicine Switzerland had been able to find seemed to be helping a bit. Helping to ease his discomfort, at least; Germany was still dying.

"I… I don't know, Feli," I looked down and took his hand that wasn't entwined in Germany's remaining one, "I just don't know." That was the honest truth; Germany couldn't be moved unless absolutely necessary and I could tell that Italy would never leave his side. I wouldn't either, because that would mean heading back alone. I had been alone so long… but now, I didn't want to leave. The Empire was everywhere, and going through that alone… I didn't want to think about it.

Italy squeezed my hand and looked down at Germany's. He spoke in a small voice, and his shoulders shook again with sobs, "Seyche… I don't want to lose him."

"You won't," I found myself saying, "We'll find a way to get him to England and the Alliance, Feli… and he'll be fine."

He looked up at me, large eyes shining with tears, "D… davvero?"

I bit my lip. I didn't know if we could, or if it was even possible to save Germany. But we had to try, didn't we? We just couldn't give up on him… there had to be some way… "I promise, Feli."

That got him to smile. A little bit, anyway. We sat in silence, watching over the sleeping Germany, until the grate slid open. I jumped at the sound, relaxing only when Switzerland heaved himself into the cramped room, Austria following soon after. Both looked more disheveled than before, and Austria tried to pat some of the dirt off his clothes.

"Did you find anything?" Italy asked.

Switzerland shook his head, "Not much; vone tunnels collapsed, the other vone is still clear."

Italy and I heaved a sigh of relief. Now if we could only figure out how to move Germany without getting caught by the French Empire… if we could get through the remaining tunnel, it would take us outside Berlin and the highest concentration of soldiers. That was all well and good, but Germany was so sick and in such pain that it was be next to impossible to move him. Then again, there was four of us with him now, instead of just Austria and Switzerland…

"Maybe… Italy and Austria could take Germany, and Switzerland and I will run point," I suggested.

"Not vith him in this condition," Austria shook his head and crossed his arms, "Too great a risk."

"But Ludwig… if he doesn't get real help soon, he'll… he'll…" Italy sobbed, burying his head in the sheets next to Germany's head. He was right; Germany needed serious help, or I couldn't see him lasting until the end of the week.

Switzerland walked around the bed to the other side and checked Germany's vitals and his bandages. A grimace crossed his face and he looked up to Austria, "As much as I don't like za kid, he's got a point."

Germany sucked in a pained breath, and Austria looked away. He hated seeing Germany like this. We all did. When he settled down, Austria looked back at Switzerland, carefully avoiding looking down at Germany, "… I…" He looked away again, "How do you even know England vill help us? He's not exactly a fan of Germany, or either of us for that matter."

"Because I'll make him!" Italy said with conviction. He squeezed my hand again, and tore his eyes from Germany to look at Austria, "I'm part of the Alliance, so I've got the power to help Germany once we get there!"

"Feliciano…" Austria looked down at the Italian with a sad look. The three of us knew just how far Italy would go to help Germany. If we didn't help him, Italy would probably try to take Germany by himself, which would get them both killed or caught by the Empire. And unlike Germany, Switzerland, and I… Italy wasn't immune to the effects of Insanity.

Wait a minute.

"Switzerland…" My brow furrowed, and I looked away from Italy to the other nation, "… why are you and Germany immune like me?"

Switzerland stopped checking over Germany to look across the bed at me, "I vas vondering vhen you's ask that." He sighed and leaned again a crate next to the bed. Switzerland crossed his arms and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking, "I don't really understand it either. Germany told me shortly after I came that my past neutrality caused me to build an immunity to the Insanity. I was around him, France, and so many other nations that entered Insanity so many times over the years, in varying degrees and forms, that eventually I grew immune to its influence." Switzerland opened his eyes and fixed them on Germany's sleeping form, "My history of neutrality makes me immune. Germany… he's immunity is only temporary. World War II was so great, and his Insanity to terrible then, that he still has the barriers and the memory of it, as well as trying to preserve his memory so he doesn't forget. Vonce those memories fade, he'll become just as susceptible as Italy or Austria. Russia, on the other hand…" Switzerland grimaced, "He's in a state of his own permanent Insanity, so he can't be infected by France's. And you, of course, are too small of a nation to worry about ever getting it."

I nodded; that made sense to me. So much information on the Insanity that they never taught us at the Academy had been dumped on me. At World Academy W, all we were taught was that the Insanity is terrible, all the larger nations go into it, and the tiny nations like myself and the micros would not have to worry about it. The fact that nations lose the memory of their Insanity quickly after coming out of it is why.

"Switzerland… wh… what does the Insanity feel like?" Italy spoke up again in a small voice, his eyes trained on Germany again. Of course Italy couldn't remember his own Insanity; he wasn't the leader, after all.

Switzerland looked away, and Austria walked behind Italy, putting a hand on his shoulder. Italy jumped, but didn't tear his gaze from Germany, "It's a terrible thing, Italy. Don't think about it, or you'll remember. Remembering what you've done in that state…" Austria closed his eyes with a pained look, "… is not something you want to do if you want to keep yourself sane."

The four of us were silent then, our eyes all trained on the dying nation between us. I didn't ask how most of his injuries happened. Part of me was curious, enraged, wanting to know who had hurt my friend… but a slightly larger part was afraid to know the answer. I didn't want to know if it had been France. I didn't want to think about it. Just stop thinking, Seychelles. Stop. Thinking.

**BANG.**

The four of us jumped, and Germany groaned, shaking away by the thunderous sounds that were far, far too close for comfort. I twisted around in alarm, eyes locked on the door, and watched as Switzerland lunged over and tore it open. He and Austria ran for the door leading out into the higher level sewers, Switzerland snatching up his rifle and Austria slipping a small pistol out of his ragged bag. Germany groaned again, and I tore my gaze from them to him. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked a couple times.

"W… was ist los?" He murmured.

**Bang.**

My gaze snapped up to the door again, my heart kicking into overdrive. I could hear running feet above us, around us, _everywhere._ Switzerland locked eyes with Austria and the German nodded once. He unlocked the door with a click and edge it open an inch.

And promptly slammed it shut and locked when a bullet glanced off the thick metal.

"Shit!" Switzerland stepped back from the door, hesitated for a second, then pulled Austria through the next one and closed and locked it.

"How did they find us?" Austria exclaimed, quickly moving to the sewer grate and pulling it back open.

"Ich weiß es nicht!" Switzerland aimed his rifle again. There was another bang, this time right outside.

"Mon dieu…" I stood slowly, backing away from the door with a hand over my mouth. How _had_ they found us? Berlin was crawling with French Empire troops, so it would have been only a matter of time, but we had been here less than a day! This was too soon; we couldn't be caught! I didn't want to go back there… oh gods, oh gods… I didn't want to feel weak, safe, and protected by France again! If Germany was right, he would eventually kill me!

"Silvouple… Silvouple, no…" They had found us, they had found us…

"We have to go now!" Switzerland commanded, taking a few steps back.

Austria nodded and rushed to Germany's side. He hesitated for half a second, "Italy, help me get Ludwig into the tunnels."

"Cosa?" Italy sprang up, looking at Austria in alarm.

"You vanted to get him out of here, so let's go!" Austria moved to the other side of the bed and helped the still half-asleep Germany up. Germany winced and a pained yelled escaped through clenched teeth.

"Österreich…" He murmured as Italy moved around the bed to help Austria, "Italien…"

"We need to go, Ludwig," Austria tried to keep the panic from his voice. He took the armless side and wrapped an arm around Germany's waist while Italy put the injured nation's arm around his shoulders. They limped to the grate an started helping his down.

"Seychelles," My eyes snapped back to Switzerland, who still had his rifle pointed at the door, "There is three bags in za corner by za grate; throw them in and get out."

"Wh-what about you?" I did as he asked shakily. All I could think about was how we had been found. They were coming for us… France was coming for me. Oh god…

"I'll be fine, just go!"

I tossed the bags in, Austria catching one and Italy another. I then swung my legs over the side, heart beating wildly in my chest. Switzerland was going to stay behind to stall them. No… I couldn't let that happen.

I froze, and looked down into the tunnels at Italy, who had left Germany with Austria so he could help me down. We locked eyes for a moment, and his slowly widened as he realized what I was going to do.

"Seyche, no!" He tried to grab my legs, but I pulled them out before he could.

Switzerland looked over his shoulder at me as the banging on the door continued, "What're you doing? GO!"

"No…" I said slowly, calmly, as I walked over to him and put a hand on the barrel of his gun. I leaned over to take out my Desert Eagle and handed that to him. I wouldn't need it, "You're stronger than me, you know the area better, and you've killed before. Go with them."

"I'll be fine, just-"

"Non!" I hissed, cutting Switzerland off before he could say anything more. They stood a better chance of getting Germany to England if the strongest of us went. I was not strongest, not by a long shot. I sighed and forced a smile, "I'm immune, and like Ludwig said… if France wins, he'll kill me last. Who knows… I might see Liechtenstein."

Switzerland froze at the mention of his sister. It took another loud bang for him to break from it, and he lowered his rifle. Italy was screaming at me to come from the tunnels, but I knew I couldn't. Someone had to stall the soldiers to give them the chance to escape. Switzerland and I locked eyes, his sad to my determined, until he finally sighed and took out a small pistol from a holster around his belt. It was a tiny .22, "Take this then."

"No, you."

"Take it or I'll throw you down that hole myself," Switzerland threatened, his tone dark. I gulped and nodded, taking the gun from him as he took my Desert Eagle, watching as he ran over. With one last look back at me, he lowered himself into the tunnels and I ran over to put the grate back in place, shutting off Italy's yells. I scooting a crate over it, ignoring the pounding of my heart and my own fears. _'They can get out,'_ I told myself, _'They can save Germany now.'_ I had to force myself to believe my words, or I would start panicking.

I turned to the door when the grate was sufficiently covered. I moved in front of Germany's bed and flinched when the first door was knocked out with a large bang and thud. Now there was just another heavy door between me and the soldiers, and I flinched with every bang. Cold sweat broke out across my body, and I was shaking like a leaf. This door was weaker than the other one and would take less time to break through. At least the others got to escape with Germany… At least they survived.

Then all sounds stopped, and I heard the sound of muffled French on the other side of the door. The knob of it was juggled, and I slowly raised my shaking arms to point the .22 at it. I steeled myself for whatever may come, despite shaking from visible fear, and managed to not flinch when the doorknob with blown clear off. Oh gods… they were coming in. After a moment and more muffled French, the door was pushed open slowly, ever so slowly…

And for the second time, I found myself pointing a gun at France.

His eyes widened and locked on me immediately, not caring that I had a gun on him. France held up a hand to stop the soldiers behind him from entering the room – I could see Japan in the background as well – and stepped forward, "Sesel…"

"F-Francis…" My arms weakened and my grip on the gun grew slack. Oh god, _him_? Of all people, _him_? I had expected soldiers, Japan, China, even _Greece_, but _France_? He was dressed in a dark blue military outfit with his hair tied back, and he looked so strong, so real, so much _Francis_.

"Mon amour…" France took a step towards me, a small smile on his face.

Germany's words came to mind, and I paled. My grip tightened on the pistol and I held it steady, "Non, Francis… I am not mon amour."

His smile faltered for a moment, and the soldiers behind him reacted. They raised their guns again, and France once more silenced them with a hand. France stepped towards me, not caring that I had a gun pointed at his chest. My shaking returned, and I backed up until I hit the bed. He grabbed the barrel of the gun and jerked me forward, planting it against his chest, right over his heart.

"Bonnefoy-san!" Japan called out from somewhere behind France.

He ignored his comrade and leaned forward, holding the gun to his chest, and spoke directly into my ear, "Faites-le, mon rossignol. S'il vous plaît."

My eyes widened and I started shaking like a leaf. I could shoot him. Right now. The barrel of a .22 caliber pistol was pressed against his chest, his heart. I could end the war, end all the suffering, the pain, the hurt… I could end it all.

The gun slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor with a sickening clatter.

I couldn't shoot France. I couldn't kill Francis.

No matter what he had, or would, become.

France sighed and drew me into his arms, one around my back and the other holding my head to his chest. He buried his face in my hair and took a deep breath. I was frozen, but not entirely from fear. The love was still there. It would never leave, and it was tearing me apart. "Ma belle fleur…" France held me tight, nuzzling the side of my head as his voice turned into a purr. My heart beat erratically, but I couldn't move. Not to hug him back, not the push him away. I was stuck in limbo between fear and love.

"Bonnefoy-san," over his shoulder, I saw Japan step through the stunned shoulders, "I doubt Seisherru was the onry one; she was with Itaria yesterday, and someone erse found them."

"Leave them be," France said, his voice tickling my ear and sending a shiver down my spine.

"Furansu-!"

"Laissez-les être!" I jumped and my whole body tensed when France yelled back at Japan. He sensed this and looked down at me with a smile, running a hand up my spine to the back of my neck. I involuntarily relaxed and my eyes fell to half-mast as France rubbed the back of my neck. It was sore from all the climbing, sleeping on hard concrete, and carrying supplies… and running from him.

Japan's mouth snapped shut and he nodded once, all traces of argument gone from his eyes. _'So that's what Germany meant,'_ I thought, gritting my teeth together to keep myself awake and from entirely slipping. France was holding me. Tightly. _'He is the French Empire, Victoria…'_ I had to remind myself, _'He's doing to kill you someday. He's not France. He is __**not Francis**__.'_ I thought it, but I didn't feel it. France was being so gentle, like when he bandaged my leg… but then Germany came the mind. The burned shadow of the little girl, and her torched doll that was still in my jacket pocket. Being forced to flee my home because I refused to submit to him.

"_Nein, Frankreich would not; za French Empire would."_

France stepped back from me, the smile still on his face. The hand on the back of my neck slid down my arm and clasped it, "Come, Sesel…"

I nodded and followed behind him willingly, more because I wasn't sure if he would kill me if I resisted. Japan left with us, along with a couple soldiers, while the rest started to investigate Germany's hideout. I hoped that the others had gotten out. That they had gotten far enough away in time.

We go to that sewer grate, now open and surrounded by soldiers. Oh god, there were so many… They had a ladder, and France let me go to go up first, then turned around to help me. I hesitated.

"I don't bite, mon amour," His smile was sweet. I felt like crying.

"Y… yes you do," I stuttered. Japan sighed and I slowly went up, only to have France grab both my hands, jerk me up, and then sweep me off my feet before I could say a word. I gasped and grabbed his jacket out of reflex. France only laughed, and I managed to hide a choked sob. He sounded so happy now. It had been fifteen years since I heard a laugh like that…

"Bonnefoy-san," Japan spoke up from behind France as he walked outside and wove through the thick debris of Berlin, "What do you want to do with her?"

France glanced over his shoulder at Japan before turning to look down at me, his laugh dying but that joyous smile refusing to leave his face, "Hmm… she'll stay in my room with me."

"N-" My head shot up. Stay in a room with France? No!

"Now, now, Sesel…" France swooped down to plant a kiss on my forehead. I felt cold all over, save for where he kissed me; the skin there was on fire, and I blushed. His expression softened as we came to a stop outside a mostly intact building. France's lips skimmed across my face to my ear, "Votre blush est belle, ma pêche…" The warmth spread from my cheeks and I did the only thing I could do to hide my face from him; bury it in his jacket. France chuckled that low, French Empire chuckle, and carried me inside. I could hear soldiers salute in the multitude of languages that made up the French Empire, and clenched France's jacket. I didn't want to see them, and with my heads buried in his chest, I could remain blissfully ignorant.

After a bit of walking, France stopped, moved me to one hand, and opened a door. He took me inside and turned back to Japan, "Prepare a group of the wounded to head for Paris. Seychelles and I will be with them."

"はい," Japan said. I pulled away from France's chest to see Japan bow before France turned and closed the door with the heel of this boot. He leaned back, with me still cradled with one arm, and I paled when I heard the lock click.

Oh gods. Oh _gods_.

I was alone. With France. Again.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Aren't I a bitch? 8D Uhm… more needless pimping out, but I made a FrancexSeychelles and a USUK tribute slideshow thingies. They're on my Youtube: xxrelena3. fails in that it won't let me put links here, as I realized last time

**Translation:**

**Italian:**

Davvero? – Really?

Cosa? – What?

**German:**

Was ist los? – What's going on?

Ich weiß es nicht! – I don't know!

Österreich – Austria

Italien - Italy

**French:**

Mon dieu... – My god...

Mon amour... – my love...

Faites-le, mon rossignol. S'il vous plaît. – Do it, my nightingale. Please.

Ma belle fleur... – My beautiful flower

Votre blush est belle, ma pêche... – Your blush is lovely, my peach.

Laissez-les être! – Leave them be!

**Seychellois Kreole:**

Silvouple... Silvouple, non... – Please... Please, no…

Non – no

**Japanese:**

Seisherru – Seychelles

Itaria – Italy

はい - yes


	11. So It's Alright

**Disclaimer:** Okay, seriously? At this point? Fine. Not mine =.=

* * *

Chapter Eleven

**So It's Alright**

_"Well, love is insanity. The ancient Greeks knew that. It is the taking over of a rational and lucid mind by delusion and self-destruction. You lose yourself, you have no power over yourself, you can't even think straight."_  
_- Marilyn French

* * *

_

France carried me over to a small bed and set me down, drawing away slowly to flick on a battery-powered lamp. The previously pitch-black room was bathed in light, and I scurried back in the bed until I was against the corner. The door was locked. There were no windows. I was in the middle of a French Empire encampment in the middle of Berlin. The room was only the old bed, a chair, a small table with the lamp, his bags, and rubble. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No gun to protect me.

"Mon amour…" France reached towards me, creeping across the bed with that smile still on his face. He reached forward and caressed my cheek. I flinched, and his hand froze. His smile faltered and fell into a frown. France drew away an inch, "Sesel… what's wrong?"

Everything! I wanted to yell, scream, go on about how it wasn't fair, why did he have to change, why couldn't we just go back to before, why did he make me feel so conflicted, _why did I love him so much_? His words, so simple, so short… I burst into tears and threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his torso. Why couldn't he just be my Francis again?

"Why… why…" I sobbed, clenching the back of his shirt as hard as I could. I couldn't get it out. I needed to know. Why him? Why us? Why the Insanity?

He understood, and placed a gentle kiss on top of my head. His lips lingered and it only made me cry harder, how gentle and kind he was being, "Shh… it's alright, Sesel… shh…" France gently trailed his fingers up and down my spine and wound the other in my hair, "You don't have to run anymore… Tomorrow, we go home. Do you remember what home is like, mon amour?" France pulled back a bit, his hands ghosting across my body before holding my cheeks, rubbing the pads of his thumbs under my eyes to wipe away my tears. I hiccupped.

Home. I did remember what that was like. I would run into my tiny little house with this generations Grandpa mysteriously missing. France would be splayed out across my little couch with a seductive smile, a glass of wine in one hand, and a rose in the other. We would cook together, laugh together, _live_ together. I remember when he would tie back his hair and cook me a huge dinner. When I tried to help, the kitchen always ended up covered in flour, with the two of us laughing on the floor. I remember going fishing on my island, and the sight of France with a dumbfounded look on his face, standing in a river with his pants rolled up and a fish in his hands. How he could never understand how I caught so much fish with no effort. I remember visiting his home in Paris, and staring slack-jawed at the huge painting of Jeanne d'Arc in his lavish entry. I asked who she was, and France told me all about her… and how much I reminded him of her, and how he had painted it himself. I remember how, as I grew older, France insisted painting me as well. My portrait stood next to hers, with his own over them. I remember the laughs, the smiles, his attempts to undress me that seemed oh-so _quaint_ now.

I nodded through my tears; I remembered what home is like.

France smiled, tilted his head a bit, and planted a kiss on the corner of my eye, "That's it, ma chérie… we'll go home and be together. Just you and me, oui? Like before…"

"F-Francis…" I wanted that. More than anything, I wanted that. To just be with France again, like before. Laughing with him, being with him. Not being afraid of what he'd become.

But I couldn't.

"We… can't," I muttered, slowly pushing back from France.

"Oui, ma chérie," France insisted, leaning closer. I couldn't back up anymore, and he just came closer. I was trapped, "We will go to Paris, go home, and stay together…" He eyes softened, and he caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. My eyes widened and he leaned closer. What was he doing? His face was so calm, so serene… France came so close, hovering over me with his lips to my ear, and whispered in a low, husky voice, "Forever…"

My eyes widened, and a warmth spread through my body from where his breath caressed my ear. A strange feeling, so foreign to me after so long, erupted in my stomach. I was so close, so close to giving in… his hands trailed up my bare arms and I shivered. They ghosted up my neck and everything felt warm, electric even. France shifted, and for a split second the cage his arms made around me was lifted.

I bolted, ducking under his arm and flying off the bed. I winced when I twisted my wrist, crumpling to the floor off the side of the bed. But I had to get away; France wasn't supposed to make me feel like this anymore. He wasn't supposed to make me so vulnerable. He wasn't supposed to make me _love him so much_.

"Sesel…" France turned slowly but didn't leave the bed, "Mon amour, what-"

"Non!" I gripped the sides of my head, backing away from him until my head hit the far wall, "Non, non, non! Arrêtez l'alarme!"

"Victoria, ce-" I heard the bed groan as France got off, but didn't care. What right did he have to do this to me? The French Empire started the war. The French Empire took my islands, my home, my people away from me. He took _everything_, so why…

Why couldn't I hate him?

"NON!" I had to get out. I had to. The fact I was in the middle of a French Empire encampment meant nothing. I couldn't be in the same room as him. I wouldn't let him make me feel like this…

He moved, and I lunged for the door, fiddling with the rusted lock. I had to get out. Had to get out. Run away. Hide. Get away from France. Run, run, run away…

"Je t'aime!" France yelled. My hand froze on the knob, just as I managed to get the lock open. Did he… did France just say he loves me? "Sesel…" Footsteps. Oh gods; I couldn't move. I was frozen, his every word washing over me. His voice was low and frustrated and just a bit husky. I didn't jump when his hand shot out from behind me, plucking mine from the door. France wrapped his strong arms around me, pulled me back against his chest, and leaned his head down to my shoulder, "… Je t'aime, Victoria…" France held me tightly in his arms, and I just stood there, too shocked to move a muscle. He nuzzled the crook of my neck and planted a light kiss there, causing a shock to flow through me. I gasped, broken from my shock. France chuckled sadly, "Je t'aime… if you believe nothing else, mon amour… believe that. Don't… don't run away from me anymore." He choked, and my eyes widened as he shook with sobs, "Je ne pouvais pas le prendre… I. Love. You." France punctuated every word, and I could feel them pierce my soul, "Mon dieu… Seychelles, I need you."

"F-Francis…" The way he spoke – with such conviction, such emotion – left me breathless. France loved me. Francis Bonnefoy loved me.

France's arms tightened, and he trailed his lips from my ear, down my neck, and back up, "S'il vous plait… s'il vous plaît, ne me quitte plus." He was begging. Begging me not to go. Didn't he know I couldn't after he said that? Told me he loved me? "Vous me garder sain d'esprit…" I shivered and relaxed against him, my eyes sliding closed as his grip loosened and his hands burned trails across my body, "Vous me garder de perdre ce qui reste de moi-même."

"Francis…" Maybe I _could_ help him. Help France out of the Insanity. Help him to survive this, and go back to before. Maybe we could have our happy ending.

France hummed, his face buried in my hair, "Say it again, mon amour…"

"Wh… at…?" I opened my eyes slowly. He was the only thing holding me up at this point. I felt so warm, so light… so _happy_.

"My name…" France purred, gently turning me around. His eyes locked with mine and something twisted in my stomach. His blue eyes – so beautiful, so fluid, like the ocean – were dark, and he was so close. I could smell that cinnamon and chocolate scent I loved so much growing up, and he was so warm. France took my face in his hands and leaned in, so close that if I just tipped my chin a bit… "I like hearing you say it…"

"Francis…" If I could think, I would know how stupid this was. How I was letting him affect me. How disappointed England would be. But I couldn't bring myself to _care_. I had thrown myself into the lion's den and was waiting for the lion to gobble me up, "Je t'aime…"

I did. I always had, and probably always will. Love, hate… the emotions were so close, after all.

France's eyes widened, "Vraiment?"

I nodded. If I was going to damn myself, I might as well do it thoroughly, "Vraiment."

He didn't hesitate again, and closed the distance to capture my lips with his own. France's hands trailed down my neck, one weaving through my hair and the other wrapping around my lower back. He pushed me back against the door, and I wrapped my arms around his upper back, holding him to me. The one constant in my life, whether I was running from it, towards it, or staring at it across the ruined land… was him. Always France. He pressed into the kiss and trailed a series of them down my jaw. France nipped at my ear and I gasped. It felt good… I blushed, and he caught it when he trailed the kisses back up to my mouth.

France chuckled against my lips, "No need to be embarrassed, ma chérie… it is just us…" He trailed his tongue across my lips and I couldn't help but moan. It ended in a squeak, still embarrassed, and France chuckled again. He moved me from the door and picked me up, whisking me over to the bed. With the contact from his lips broken, I could think again.

What was he doing? Surely, France wasn't… it was too soon!

Seeing the fearful look on my face, France smiled and set me down gently, "Do not worry, mon amour… I will be good." He hovered above me, wavy hair framing his face and the dim lamp light casting shadows on his face. France smiled and put a hand on either side of me and leaned down, kissing me sweetly. I raised my arms to hold him against me, and he drew back enough that my eyes could focus on his, "We will leave that for beautiful Paris…"

The warmth grew and the knot in my stomach tightened. Paris. The lights, the streets, the life of the city… I could still remember it, after all this time…

My fear was gone, and my inhibitions gone with it. I leaned up, giving France a small kiss. This was my first kiss, after all, and I felt so giddy… and a little curious. Thoughts of the war, of England, of Italy and Germany and Switzerland and everyone else were gone. Right now, in this moment, all that mattered was France and I.

"Seychelles… my Sesel," France whispered into my lips. He nipped my bottom lip and I never felt so _warm_ and so _good_, "Je t'aime…" France kissed the corner of my mouth and then trailed feather-light kisses down to my bare neck, saying between each one that he loved me, "Je t'aime…" I could hear so many emotions in his words, mixed together with my own. Longing, love, even sadness… France's tongue flicked out at the crook of my neck and I gasped, "Je t'aime…" He kissed the spot and sucked. I squeaked, and he chuckled, my skin crawling from his breath and his touch, "Je t'aime…"

"F… Francis…" I wrapped my arms around him. I had given up. He could do what he wanted to me; I didn't care. As long as I could be by his side… "Je t'aime…" I held him against me, and I spoke with nothing but pure emotion.

"Never leave me again," France pulled up a bit, looking down at me and locking my eyes in an inescapable stare. I could see his love, his emotion, in his eyes… and a bit of desperation.

I leaned up as much as I could to kiss him again, "Jamais…"

"Sesel…" France ran his hand through my hair and lowered me back down. I could tell he was slipping. He didn't want to wait for Paris. I was hyperaware of him now, and my nerves were on fire. His hands slid down by body and his lips found mine again. He said my names over and over again, "Sesel… Victoria… my Seychelles."

"My France," He needed to know that too. If he could have me, then I could have him.

He chuckled against my lips, "Oui; your France." France's hands found my waist, then my hips, and went lower for the hem of my torn dress…

"Francis, you old pervert, got 'cha self the girl, ¿no?"

I tensed and France drew up slowly, looking over his shoulder. He sighed dramatically, "… Mon ami, you have the _worst_ timing." I looked under his arm to see Spain leaning against the open doorway with a smirk. How had he…? Oh right… I had unlocked the door. But wait… wasn't he in Copenhagen?

Spain looked down at me and kicked off the doorway, "Seychelles, I presume? France was so excited that he changed the plans of the entire damn Empire to come find you. Dragged me from Copenhagen and left _Prussia_ in charge."

"Antonio," France groaned, rolling his eyes and sliding off me to sit on my knees and look back at Spain.

"¿qué?" Spain gave him a sideways glance. His expression turned to mock sadness, "Hey, you stationed mi Romano in the Americas! I have the right to be a little put out." He puffed out his bottom lip, not seeming put out at all, "You get to have your Seychelles, but do I get to have mi Lovino? No." Lovino? Romano, Italy's older brother? Did... did Italy know he was part of the French Empire?

"Is that your way of telling me to send you to America?" France moved off me completely, jumping off the bed with a smile on his face, "My little brother has been quite a thorn in my side lately… Canada and Cuba are having trouble."

"Possibly," Spain shrugged, still smiling, "Or maybe I wanted to ruin your chances of getting laid."

"Maintenant, maintenant, mon cher Antonio!" France threw up his hands, then clamped one around his friend's shoulders, "We've known each other _how long_? How many centuries?" He pulled away from the other man, smirking, "You know not to get in the way of me and l'amour."

Spain sighed and stepped away from France. He pulled a thin, crumpled sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to him, "You are right, mi amigo. I got this report from one of my men out of patrol just now."

France's joyous light humor disappeared, and his face grew serious. He was the French Empire again. He snatched the paper from Spain and read it; I watched his eyes widen and color drain from his face while his eyes flicked up to me. "Tch…" France tossed it back at Spain, "Putain de merde!" He rounded on the Spanish nation, "Est-ce vrai?" His face grew livid, and all the warmth in the room was replaced by ice.

"Sí, Francis," Spain's gaze flicked to me again before speaking entirely in Spanish, "Tropas de la Alianza han colado a través de nuestra defensa y se dirige de esta manera. Inglaterra los lleva, creo que van a venir por ella y Alemania ... donde quiera que se escabulló a con Feliciano."

"Feli?" I eyes widened and I jumped up. I couldn't understand the rest of what he said, but I knew the name of my friend. Had they caught Italy and the others? Oh gods… please, please don't let them get caught. Fear flooded through me; France wouldn't hurt me yet – Germany had said he wasn't deep in his Insanity – but Italy, Austria, Switzerland, and Germany… The latter was the one I worried for the most; Germany was dying, and France didn't like him to begin with.

"Il est bien, mon amour," France stood in front of me and brushed the back of his hand against my cheek, "Calm down."

"D… did you catch Feli and the others?" I choked a bit at the end. Please, let him say no. Let him say no…

"Non," I sighed with relief. Good; they had gotten away. Me staying behind would have been meaningless otherwise. France smiled sweetly at me, "Shh, calm down, ma chérie…"

Spain raised an eyebrow, "_And the others?_" He stepped towards the two of us, and he and France exchanged glances. Spain's face darkened and his eyes flashed, mirroring the rage that suddenly appeared in France's face. My eyes widened and I trembled, realizing my folly. Oh god… he looked so _angry_…

France looked down at me, "Sesel… who else was with you?" His tone had changed. It was deeper, darker. I was no longer talking to my Francis. The French Empire had taken over, "Mon amour…" His hand slid from my cheek, and France gripped my shoulders, "…_Qui était avec vous?_"

"N-no one! J-just Italy and I!" I just managed to squeak that out, my voice shooting up an octave. I couldn't tell him about the others. He knew that Italy was with me, but France didn't know that Switzerland was the one who had saved us outside Berlin. Or that he had taken us to Germany, the one who he was trying to find here. Or that Austria, another man he didn't like, was with them. Worst of all, France didn't know the state Germany was in.

"Vous mentez," France growled. I felt fear injected into my veins, and started shaking like a leaf.

His grip tightened and I whimpered, "F-Francis, you're h-hurting me!" This wasn't France. This wasn't my Francis! The crazed look in his eyes… he looked like he wanted to break something. Or someone.

"Qui était avec vous?" He yelled at me, "Était-ce l'Allemagne?"

My vision blurred and I started to cry again, but froze when he said Germany, "Sil… silvouple, F-Francis…"

He took my freezing for an answer and whipped his head back to Spain, "Recherche dans les égouts. Ne vous arrêtez pas jusqu'à ce que vous les trouver!"

Spain nodded, his face set and cold. Like Japan's had been, "En él." He started to leave, but hesitated at the door, "Francis, what about…?"

"Je vais prendre soin d'elle," France said and a dark, dangerous tone. I could barely see him through my tears. Spain nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. It was just us again, but I felt so cold… so scared. I sobbed and tore my eyes from him. I was scared, but I couldn't run. The French Empire would catch me. All I could do was cry.

His grip loosened and I ran from his arms to the opposite of the room from the bed. Just five minutes ago – non, not even that – France had been so affectionate, so gentle. My shoulders hurt now, and I hit the corner and slid down, holding where he had touched me. They hurt, and would probably bruise.

"Se… Sesel, I…" His voice was shaky, and I could hear his take a hesitant step towards me. I buried my head in my knees and whimpered. He stopped in front of me, "Mon dieu… je suis tellement désolé." France knelt down and reached for me, but I flinched away. He froze, then his fingers curled back into a fist, "Sesel… je t'aime."

Strange; it didn't seem as true now, "N-non, Francis." I forced myself to look up at him, blinking through the tears, "That's why we can't go back… you have the Insanity. Germany… he told me. What you're going to do. What you're going to _become_." He opened his mouth to speak, but I pressed my fingers to his lips. He had to know, "He told me you're going to kill me."

France's eyes widened. His deep blue eyes stared into my own with a mix of shock and disbelief, "Non, mon amour… Je ne vous tuent…"

I choked out a sob, "Y-you won't… but the French Empire will. Someday." That little display proved it. My France was slipping away, piece by broken piece. Changing, morphing into something dark that I didn't know.

"Jamais," France swore, darting forward to pull me into his arms. I gasped and tried to pull away, but he was too strong for me, "Jamais! Je t'aime… je t'aime!"

"Wi, you will…" I choked and sobbed, giving up on fighting against him. He had always been stronger than me, "Je t'aime…"

France just held me, without saying a word, as I cried. He rubbed circles on my back to try and calm me down, but it did nothing. Spain was going to hunt down my friends. If they got caught, Germany would die. And I was here, with France – no, with the French Empire – losing myself to him. I was scared, so scared. That wild, crazed look in his eyes when I lied to him…

It had been a while since I truly feared for my life.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I've gotten the following stats on this fanfic that I feel I need to address: France, 5 hits 2 visitors. Spain, 2 hits 2 visitors. Um... I am very, very sorry for my craptasticness at your languages. I'm using Google Translate and Google due to the fact that the only languages I speak are English, Bad English (e.i. American), Pig Latin, and a bit of Japanese... and some keywords in other languages. So... yeah xD;;; What else? Oh, right. I have a response to a review, since they had private messages disabled so I couldn't actually send a message like I did with some of you:

There Was A Silence: O-O Thank you so much. I saw your review about thirty seconds after posting chapter ten. In this chapter, you get to find out where Prussia is: outside Copenhagen, and part of the French Empire n.n Your review made me blush and get all flustered, and that made my roommate in college giggle. xD

And for those who are wondering where other nations that haven't been mentions yet might be, don't worry; they will be mentioned eventually, for the most part. I want to include as many nations as I can, even if just in passing. Also, those that don't appear in Nightingale might appear in Errare Humanum Est, a connected one-shot collection I'm working on that goes through France's fall into Insanity and the war up until Nightingale, and certain events in Nightingale from other characters point of views. Like the Battle of Dresden, Germany losing his arm, the final straw that made France declare war. But you don't get to see that until Nightingale is finished~ n.n

**Translation:**

**French:**

Mon amour… - My love…

ma chérie – my darling

oui – yes

non – no

No, no, no! Stop it!

Je t'aime! – I love you!

Je ne pouvais pas le prendre… - I couldn't take it…

Mon dieu – my god

S'il vous plait… s'il vous plaît, ne me quitte plus. – Please… please, don't leave me again.

Vous me garder sain d'esprit. – You keep me sane.

Vous me garder de perdre ce qui reste de moi-même. – You keep me from losing what's left of myself.

Vraiment? – Truly?

Jamais. – Never.

Mon ami – my friend

Maintenant, maintenant, mon cher Antonio! – Now, now, my dear Antonio!

L'amour – love

Putain de merde! – Fucking hell!

Est-ce vrai? – Is this true?

Il est bien, mon amour. – It's alright, my love

Qui était avec vous? – Who was with you?

Vous mentez. – You are lying.

Était-ce l'Allemagne? – Was it Germany?

Recherche dans les égouts. Ne vous arrêtez pas jusqu'à ce que vous les trouver! – Search the sewer. Don't stop until you find them!

Je vais prendre soin d'elle. – I'll take care of it!

Je ne vous tuent… - I would never kill you.

**Spanish:**

¿no? – no?

Mi amigo – my friend

Sí - yes

Tropas de la Alianza han colado a través de nuestra defensa y se dirige de esta manera. Inglaterra los lleva, creo que van a venir por ella y Alemania ... donde quiera que se escabulló a con Feliciano. - Alliance troops have snuck through our defense and are heading this way. England's leading them; I think they're coming for her and Germany... wherever he slunk off to with Feliciano.

En él. – on it.

**Seychellois Kreole:**

Silvouple – please

Wi - yes


	12. You Are Still Mine Forever

**Disclaimer:** Okay, seriously? At this point? Fine. Not mine =.=

* * *

Chapter Twelve

**You Are Still Mine Forever**

"_I never thought that anyone who loved me could hurt me. Abuse is very subtle. Abusers are very subtle. Abusers are very charming."_

_- Hedda Nussbaum_

* * *

To say the next few hours were awkward would be an understatement. France held me for what seemed like ages, until I came to grips with myself and pushed him away. For once, he didn't fight or chase me, and sat frozen in the corner as I huddled under the blankets of the makeshift bed. It was childish, but with the blankets cocooning me, I felt protected from him. Protected from myself.

After a good ten minutes, I heard France get up. My blood quickened and my heart beat in my chest as I heard his footsteps near me. He wouldn't take advantage of me, would he? He wouldn't get mad, confuse me, or anything else he was so good at, right? I felt like crying all over again, and when his fingers lightly touched my shoulder, I couldn't help but flinch and bury myself further in the blankets.

"Sesel…" He sighed and I heard him leave. I was alone, and a plan to escape immediately formed. I was half out of the bed before I could even think, only to hear the click on the lock from the other side, followed by France instructing someone – probably soldiers – that no one was allowed in or out. I was to be kept in, and "Si quelqu'un essayait d'obtenir dans cette salle... leur tirer dessus." They were ordered to shoot anyone who came in.

My blood ran cold, matching the icy monotone of France's voice. His voice and footsteps faded away quickly after that, and I was completely alone in the dimly lit room. The only way out was through that door, and though I could easily unlock it from this side, who knows how many guards were on the other end? Armed guards, who were put there to keep me in.

I looked around, willing myself to stay calm. There had to be something, anything, that I could do. Something France had overlooked in all this haste… something that could get me out of all these confusing memories and back to what I knew best. Running away.

My eyes fell on France's bags, and I found my answer. I scrambled to them, cursing myself for making so much noise in doing so, and pulled open the bag as quietly as I could. Inside was clothing, papers, personal effects (I ignored most of it, and pushed aside everything that was so much France that it made my chest ache), but no weapons. Not that I'd expected that; France wasn't stupid enough to leave me around loaded weapons or knives, especially after my escape with Italy from the Alliance.

He did seem to forget a small radio stuffed into the bottom of the bag, though.

I snatched it up and frantically messed with the dial. Spain said something earlier: "Inglaterra". I didn't know Spanish, but it sounded a lot like the French "Angleterre", which I did know. England. If he was coming this way, if he was chasing after us, then maybe I could get a hold of him.

If only I knew the frequency…

Something clicked in my head, and my eyes widened. Spain mentioned Italy too, and another plan formed. Switzerland had a radio, and had used it to contact Austria while leading us to Berlin. Feeling adrenaline pumping freely through me – who knows how long I had until France came back? – I quickly punched Switzerland's frequency.

"Switzerland, Switzerland," I said in a hushed whisper, eyes glued to the door.

For a moment there was nothing, then I heard the faintest, "Wh… helles?"

I bit my lip. It was so quiet that I could barely hear anything, so I threw everything back into the bag, closed it, and crept back into bed, covering myself before risking turning the radio up just a bit. I held it hard against the side of my head to hear him, and took a deep breath before answering, "France… I mean, the French Empire… I overheard Spain talking to him, and I think England's coming."

"Vhat? Vhy vould 'e come 'ere?" Austria must have taken the radio away, and his accent seemed thicker than usual. The stress, probably.

I clutched the radio in both hands, sweating in fear of being caught, "I… I don't kn-know, it's just…"

"Seyche, vhere are you?" My heart leapt at the sound of Germany's voice. He was awake, lucid, and most of all _alive_.

"I… I don't know…" I winced. When France took me, I hadn't been in the right state of mind to pay attention, "Somewhere in Berlin?"

"So Frankreich hasn't left yet…" Germany muttered.

"I… I think we will soon," I said, pulling the blankets over my head for a better barrier against… I wasn't quite sure.

Then I heard footsteps, and France's muffled voice on the other side of the door. Germany was trying to talk to me, but I couldn't concentrate anymore. I had to hurry, and gripped the radio tighter, "Listen. Get out of here. Try and find England or someone from the Alliance. France'll take me to Paris, and…" In my heightened state, I could hear the doorknob turn, "Bye!"

"Seych-"

I flipped the radio off and stuffed it under the pillows. The door creaked open almost at the same time, and I made a show of curling up like I just heard him coming. France came in, silent, and followed by two more people.

"Ay, Seychelles," Someone shook my shoulder, and I recognized the voice as Spain.

I curled up under the blankets even more and drew them tighter around me. I didn't want to face France. I didn't, I didn't…

"Victoria…" His touch was light on my shoulder, and France squeezed it just a bit as he leaned over me, "It's time to go, mon amour."

I felt those warm, fuzzy feelings break through the fear, and I was ashamed. I shouldn't feel like this. I shouldn't be this _weak_. Why? Why did I let him effect me like this? And why couldn't I just stop feeling this way? It hurt so much…

I sobbed once, and was in France's arms. He held me tightly and I couldn't help but cry. My chest felt tight, and it only escalated when France dismissed Spain and we were alone.

"Ma chérie…" France hummed a tune and rubbed my back, trying to calm me down. How nice and tender he was being only made me cry harder. Telling myself that this wasn't France was hard. That this was the French Empire, France with the Insanity, whatever people called him.

It was hard, but as I remembered how angry France had gotten when I lied to him, it wasn't impossible. My head cleared, and I pushed away as far as he would let me – which wasn't much – to look him in the eyes. I gritted my teeth at the bombardment of emotions. Hatred, love, fear, longing, sadness, disgust… and those eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, so expressive and so much _France_.

So France, that they were dark and wild with Insanity.

"Fr… Francis…" I choked out, my face screwed up as I fought back more tears.

He smiled, tilting his head just so and brushing my tears away with his thumb, "Hey, Sesel… do not cry, ma chérie. I'm here, and it's time to go home, okay?"

Couldn't he see that him being here was what made me cry and tore me apart? "Francis, could I… have a minute, please?"

"Bien sûr," he slowly pulled back, his hands sliding down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shivered, and his smile widened. France turned and left, but not before blowing a kiss and saying, "Just come out when you're ready, mon amour."

Once the door closed, I snatched the radio from under the pillows and quietly unzipped France's bag. I threw one last glance at the door before stuffing it to the bottom and closing the bag. I sat on my knees next to it, my hands frozen on the bag, and a single tear fell.

I was lost now, and there was no going back.

My hands balled into tight fists and I stood. I wiped my face free of tears before walking to the door. My hand was on the knob, my breath quickened, and I hesitated. My eyes slid closed and I took a deep breath. I had to be strong. I was a nation, and I had to act strong, just like France and England taught me.

I stood straight, eyes ahead, and opened the door. France stood there, surrounded by Empire soldiers, with a wide smile. I smiled right back, covering all the negative feelings with a mask. Running and surviving was what I was good at, and if pretending France wasn't ripping me apart with his mere presence would keep me alive, then that's what I'd do.

I had to try and save him. Without that, I had no hope.

"Sesel, shall we?" France held out a hand, and I took it without argument. We left the crumbling building the French Empire was using as a base. Berlin outside hadn't changed, and rubble and fallen buildings were everywhere. Soldiers stuck close to us, and I clung to France's side as he led me through the rubble. I wouldn't look at him, because I didn't want another breakdown, and we came out to a small break in all the rubble. Just enough for some army trucks and jeeps.

I hesitated a bit, but France's grip tightened and he led me to one of the trucks. He climbed in the back, to the confusion of the soldiers and I, but he only smiled and pulled me in after him. None of the soldiers followed, and he closed the back. It was just the two of us, and France wouldn't let me go.

The truck started up and we were off. All I could hear was the sounds of the truck and it bounced over rubble. The ride was bumpy, and France held me against his chest. I didn't fight, I didn't move, and I didn't say a word. I had to be strong and wait for my chance. There was no escaping, I knew, but I had to try and help him. Help France to remember how good everything was before the war, and get him to stop.

"Victoria…" After an hour of driving, France leaned down and nuzzled the top of my head. I tensed, but my body betrayed me and relaxed under his touch, "About before…"

"I know," … that you've lost your mind. I didn't say the rest, or it would set him off again.

France sighed into my hair, "I just… I want everything so… so badly, mon cher." His arms tightened, and for now he was France. The French Empire side – the Insane side – was gone for now, "Ça fait mal. It hurts, Sesel, to have everyone so far away. All I wanted was to be together with everyone. Merde, Sesel…" He buried his head in the side of my neck, and I blinked back tears. No more of those. I wouldn't cry anymore.

Then he laughed bitterly, "I used to think Russia was crazy, wanting everyone to become 'one with Russia' and all. But now…" France sighed again, and it tickled the side of my neck.

"Francis, I-"

"I understand him now… and that's what I want."

* * *

It was dark when we stopped for the night. The convoy was small, and in the morning a cargo plane would arrive to take France and I to Paris, while the rest returned to Berlin and headed for Russia. I didn't know where we were, except that we just left the colossal ruins. That was probably why a plane didn't come in Berlin; the ruins were so twisted and thick that there was nowhere for one to land.

France and I sat together in a rundown building. He still refused to let me go, always holding my hand or tightly against his chest. Soldiers came and went, and rations were brought for us.

"It is not my cooking, Sesel… but it will do until Paris, no?" France chuckled as he opened his, "Wine, soupe à l'oignon, bread… maybe oysters. I remember how much you loved oysters, mon amour."

"Wi, Francis…" Oysters were one of my favorites, and no one made them better than France. I found myself picturing them, picturing the food and France standing over the stove with his hair in a small ponytail, singing to himself as he cooked. It was an art to him, and I loved watching France cook.

"_Come here, Sesel."_

"_Non non, ma chérie; you mix it in like this, and be sure to watch the heat!"_

"_Mon dieu, what am I going to do with you? It says a cup of __**sugar**__, not __**salt**__."_

I leaned against him, "Oui, I would like that… a lot." Believe, Seychelles. I had to believe I could fix this, and we could go back to those days. I had to, I had to, I-

**BOOM.**

France scrambled to his feet, and I had to catch myself from falling. Were we under attack? Who was it? The convoy was small, as to not attract notice until the plane came, so chances were low that the Alliance came across us. Especially since they weren't out here in the No-Man's-Land of Germany.

Wait.

England.

I jumped to my feet as France tore the door open. Spain was there, gun in hand, and he tossed another to the French Empire leader, "We've got problems, mi amigo. I don't know how they found us in all this rubble so damn fast, but-"

"Angleterre?" France growled, and Spain's nod confirmed my suspicions. England had come after us, and now found me. How did they know where to go? The only ones who knew where I was were Austria, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy, and the four of them were escaping. Had England found them, and they told him about my capture? If they were found by the Alliance, then Germany…

Germany could survive.

It took more willpower than I knew I had to stop myself from shouting in joy. France had spilled over into his ruthless side the moment the fighting started outside, and the Insanity took him over. If I did something now, then he might snap. Self preservation is a very powerful instinct.

"Sesel, stay," France ordered, "Spain, station guards around the building. No one goes in except me."

"Bien, Francia," Spain nodded, his face hard and mouth set in a line. All business, "And you, mi amigo?"

"I won't let him take her away again," France pushed passed Spain and vanished in the fighting outside.

"NO!" I leapt for the door, but Spain jerked it closed before I could get to it. Frantic to get out, I pulled on the doorknob as hard as I could, but Spain somehow managed to jam it on the other side. The only window was blocked by debris, and all I could hear were gunshots outside. France's explosive anger, the way he said that… I knew what he was going to do.

France was going to kill England himself.

I couldn't let him. England was like a brother to me, or a mentor. He taught me so much, just like France, and I didn't want to see either of them get hurt. Especially by each other.

"Laissez-moi sortir! S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît, laissez-moi sortir!" I screamed, pounding on the other side of the door, "S'il vous plait!" I whipped around wildly, pulling at the door and looking for an escape.

There was none, and all I heard was the fighting outside. I was trapped, like so long ago in the closet, and there was nothing I can do.

"Non, Francis…" I sobbed, pounding on the door once before sliding down it, "Silvouple…" They couldn't. Not France and England. If they fought, one would die. There was nothing that could stop them if that happened.

"Non…" The fighting waged on, but I didn't care. France and England were all I cared about right now. I couldn't let them fight, or I would see one of them die.

Why am I so helpless? So weak?

The gunfire reached the destroyed building that had become my prison, and I scrambled away from the door to where our untouched rations laid. Fighting, shouts in so many languages, and gunfire were all I heard as I curled up with my head in my knees. Fear gripped my heart, and I knew there was nothing I could do now.

My head snapped up when the doorknob was shot clean off. I screamed when it was kicked open, only to have it die on my throat when I saw England.

"Seychelles!" His eyes widened when I threw myself at him.

"Arthur," I hugged him tightly, relieved and fearful at the same time. If he was here, then France hadn't found him yet. Then again, it meant that France was still looking for him. My eyes widened and I looked up in alarm, "We need to go. France is looking for you, and he-"

"I know, I know Seychelles," England shushed me, turning to address the few men with him as they fought back soldiers before going on, "I came after you, you stupid girl. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I… I…"

"We found Italy with Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, and they told me you let yourself be captured as a diversion," He gripped my shoulders and held me back at arm's length, and I could see both relief and rage in his eyes, "Seychelles, you're the one he's after most! Sure, he's been searching for all the nations important to him too, like Italy, but none of them are as important as you! Goddammit, Victoria, Germany told me what he'll do-"

"Arthur!" I tore away from him. He didn't understand; we needed to get out of here _now_ before France came back, "We have to go, now!"

"Seychelles, you don't understand-"

"No, you don't!" I shrieked before grabbing England's empty hand (the other had a pistol) and pulling him out.

Outside was chaos. Gunfire flew, soldiers fought, and I for the life of me couldn't tell who were Alliance and who were French Empire. Both groups were small, and I dragged England through the battles, keeping my head low and sticking to the sparse concrete rubble. I didn't know where to go, except away from here.

Away from France.

"Angleterre!" England's hand was torn from mine when he froze. I stopped and whipped my head back to see France pointing a gun directly at England's heart. He was breathing heavily, and his other hand was clenched in a tight fist. There was no mistaking the look on his face. France was out for blood.

"Non… mon dieu, non…" I muttered, eyes wide.

"France," England straightened up and turned to face him, every bit the dignified nation I knew him to be. He didn't raise his own gun. He didn't try to defend himself, or even run. England just stood there.

"I won't let you take her," France growled, his blue eyes so dark they could be black.

I moved to England's side, and saw him smiling, "You'll have to kill me then, won't you."

My blood ran cold as I realized when England was doing. He didn't think France would shoot him. England knew France better than anyone, and France would never kill him. But I knew the French Empire…

… and the French Empire would.

France didn't hesitate, and neither did I. He pulled the trigger, and a nation fell. The thing was, it wasn't England.

I had never felt pain this bad. Spraining a wrist, bruises, cuts, injuries during the war, concussion, sure I had felt those. But as France's bullet hit my chest, a pain I had never felt before spread through me. I was on the ground as France rushed to me and England stumbled back, only dimly aware of what was going on. I was turning to ice, and the only thing that could stop it was pouring from the gaping hole in my chest.

"Sesel, mon dieu, Victoria, no!" I was pulled up into someone's lap – France's? – and someone was sobbing over me. Everything was blurry and dark, like there was a film over my eyes. I felt strangely detached from everything, and felt so fuzzy and cold.

Synapses in my brain managed to alert me to what was happening. I was dying. I had been shot in the chest, and now I was dying. It hurt so much, but as blood poured from the wound all over France and I, it ebbed away. What replaced the pain was only a dull throbbing and darkness.

I couldn't move, I couldn't see.

"Victoria!" Was that an angel? No, I wouldn't go to Heaven. I couldn't stop France, so what had I done to deserve it? I couldn't do anying.

"Non, Victoria, non!" Was the angel crying? Why? At least now I would be free. I didn't have to run anymore, "Je t'aime! Mon dieu, Victoria, s'il vous plaît ne pas mourir!"

The angel loved me. The angel didn't want me to die. But wouldn't France be happy then? I would be 'one' with him, in a way, if I died… My consciousness drifted off along with the rest of the pain, and I knew I was dead.

"Non…"

As the last of myself faded away, I was free.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is all I have to say about that chapter: n.n That and this: don't be fooled, I'm not nearly done yet.

Oh, also: when did this story get popular? Seriously? I mean, I had nearly fifty views yesterday, over three hundred this month, and my last update was at LEAST two months ago (too lazy to look it up now xD). I mean... wow, guys o-o Especially for a niche pairing like FrancexSeychelles. Thanks o-o

**Translation:**

**French:**

Si quelqu'un essayait d'obtenir dans cette salle... leur tirer dessus. – If anyone tries to get in this room… shoot them.

Angleterre - England

Mon amour – My love

ma chérie/ mon cher - my darling

Bien sûr – of course

Ça fait mal – It hurts

Merde – Damn it

Soupe à l'oignon – French onion soup

Non - no

Mon dieu – my god

Oui – yes

Laissez-moi sortir! S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît, laissez-moi sortir! – Let me out! Please, please, let me out!

S'il vous plait – Please

Je t'aime – I love you

S'il vous plaît ne pas mourir! – Please, don't die!

**Spanish:**

Inglaterra – England

Mi amigo – my friend

Bien, Francia – Alright, France

**German:**

Frankreich – France

**Seychellois Kreole:**

Wi – yes

Silvouple - please


	13. No One Can Take You

**Disclaimer:** Okay, seriously? At this point? Fine. Not mine =.=

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

**No One Can Take You**

_"He began to dance and his laughter became a bloodthirsty snarling."_

_- Lord of the Flies, Chapter Four_

* * *

"_Francis! Francis! I caught a fish!" I giggled, racing up to France during one of his trips to my island._

_He chuckled, looking down at the cute fishie clutched in my little arms. He ruffled my hair, and I puffed out my cheeks in defiance, "That's nice, ma chérie. Does that mean you want tuna tonight?"_

* * *

"Seychelles, come on. You can't die like this!"

Lights. Noise. Nothing but pain.

* * *

_My eyes widened and I nodded vigorously, "I like fish, Francis!"_

"_I know, I know…" He gingerly took the fish from me and put it in a basket with other plants and fish I had collected. Was he going to grill the fishie? With lotsa lemon, and maybe mango too! Few things were better in this world than French food, my little mind decided, especially when made by the embodiment of the nation himself. Embodiment… that's exemple de realization in French. It's a new word France taught me._

* * *

"I don't care! She is a nation, and need _immediate_ surgery! For Christ's sake, she died twice in the helicopter!"

* * *

"_Francis, come on!" I grabbed his hand, giggling when he just barely grabbed the basket before he was tugged to his feet and dragged down the sandy Seychellois beaches. _

_I liked playing with France, and thought up a wonderful game. Before he could react, I leapt forward and snagged his hair tie. I pulled it out and took off, dashing into the giant palm trees, roaring with laughter._

"_Victoria Jeanne Delacroix, get back here this instant!" I laughed harder as I heard him chase after me, knowing he'd never catch me. He was taller with longer legs, but I was a little colony who knew the jungles and forests of my islands better than anyone._

* * *

"Seyche, per favore! Non si può morire!"

More pain. Then numbness. Nothing. The feeling of flesh and cloth being torn.

"Austria, get Italy the bloody 'ell out of here!"

"Seyche!"

* * *

_I was wrong._

_His arms wrapped around my tiny form a little too tight. The fish dropped from my hands as he picked me up. Everything around us started to darken and distort, like runny paints mixing with black. His arms tightened, and an unexplainable fear turned me cold._

* * *

"Flatline. I'm sorry, sir. There was nothing-"

"Bullshit! She's not dead!"

"Estimated time of death, 1800 hou-"

"**She's not dead!**"

* * *

"_Fr-Francis, y-you're hurting me!"_

"_I won't let you get away again, ma pêche," His voice was a low purr against my ear. I felt older now, taller, leaner. A true nation, trapped in his vice-like arms, "Tu es à moi… toujours."_

* * *

"Doctor!"

* * *

_His arms grew tighter and tighter, and all there was was darkness and pain. Blood seeped from my chest, eyes, nose, mouth. I was dying, and all I heard was the sweet, terrifying voice of the man I love._

* * *

"Oh god…"

* * *

"_Doucement, doucement. Doucement s'en va le jour. Doucement, doucement. À pas de velours. Dans le creux des nids. Les oiseaux blottis. Se sont endormis." His lips were right again my ear, but all I felt was pain…_

"_Bonne nuit."_

* * *

My entire body ached. Everything throbbed with a dull, numbing pain that was just enough to be irritating. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew drugs were the only thing keeping me from screaming, but I didn't care. The dull ache told me the most important – and most disappointing – thing.

I was alive.

I could hear shuffling and movement around me, but couldn't bring myself to open my eyes. Everything was aching and numb, and I knew that the moment I opened my eyes, something would accost me. Light, soldiers, Italy…

… France.

In my hazy, drugged mind, I knew I couldn't pretend to be in a coma forever, and lazily cracked my eyes open. Pain shot through the back of my eyes, causing me to groan and shield them. I was right about the light.

I heard three cry either "Seyche!", "Seychelles!", or "Victoria!" A fourth grunted, and a fifth sighed. There was movement; whatever I was laying on depressed as someone sat down. I forced my eyes open a bit more to see swimming shapes above me. Another groan escaped me, and I smacked my hand to my forehead, dragging it down my face and feeling all kinds of tubes and contraptions taped to my wrist and finger.

Not more hospitals…

Something bubbled to the surface of my foggy brain, and I opened my eyes a bit more. Things focused just enough for me to identify people. Italy leaned over me to my right, England sat on the medical bed to my left. Down from him, towards the foot of my bed, was Iceland, and behind Italy to the right was Germany in another bed, flanked by Austria and Switzerland.

Finally, my eyesight cleared and settled on England, "… Arthur?"

"Victoria…" His voice cracked, and the great ex-Empire looked close to tears.

My brow furrowed in hazy concern, and I lazily lifted a hand, reaching for his cheek, "Iggy… you 'kay…?"

My hand couldn't quite reach him, and he leaned forward to clasp it, but didn't say a word. It didn't look like he was able too, but he did nod.

I smiled, letting my eyes slide closed - "C'est bien…" – only to snap open again, "Iggy… where's Francis?"

I felt his hand tense, and rage flashed across his face before England looked away. I tilted my head, confused. To my hazy brain, it made sense. France was always there when I got hurt. He made it all better. He bandaged my scrapped knees as a kid, helped me up when I tripped, cuddled me to his strong chest until I stopped crying. My head lolled to both sides as the confusion mounted. France should be here, but the bearded Frenchman was nowhere to be found.

"Vhat's wrong vith 'er?" Germany said.

With me? What was wrong with _them_? Where was France?

"I…" England hesitated, and I knew something was wrong. Something I should know, but whatever painkillers were in my body put a haze over everything. I couldn't think straight. He smiled – even in the haze, I could tell it was forced – and said, "He's sleeping, Seychelles. Want me to send someone to wake him up?"

I groggily shook my head, smiling a bit, "Non… he'll be cranky…" I couldn't help but yawn, feeling so hazy and tired. Like a huge cloud laid on top of me, smothering me in pillowy warmth, "I'mma go to bed now… 'zat okies…?"

England chuckled, and I was pulled from the cloud for just long enough to know there was something wrong with the way he sounded, "Yeah, Sey. Get some sleep, okay?"

I giggled, "'ight, Iggy…" I didn't hear if he said it back, because I was already out.

The next morning was different. From what England and the others said, after France shot me, he went near catatonic. He didn't move even when England pulled my body away. Stranger still, all the French Empire soldiers and infected countries went into shock for a full minute. By that time, England got me into a truck and out of the battlefield. Then the French Empire swarmed around France like aggressive, wild bees. They fought like rabid dogs, forcing the Alliance to retreat. Switzerland, who was fighting with the Alliance now that Germany was safe, told England he was one of the last to leave, and one of the last to see France. He hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked.

England got me out and into a helicopter as soon as possible. According to him, I died twice in the helicopter on the way to the Copenhagen base and once more in the operating room. The doctor told England I was hit with a 9mm Parabellum hollow point, and by all rights I should be dead. If I was human, that is. I barely survived anyway… and honestly, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

Italy jammed a fork of ration food in my mouth, "Seyche, eat your food!"

"Mmrph!" Seeing the happy look on Italy's face made me decide that maybe living wasn't such a bad thing. There was a thin cloud of happiness for the first time in years. Germany had been found, I was alive, and all of us had returned from Berlin. However, a shadow hung over regardless. Germany was recovering, but he would never get his arm back until his nation was restored, and I would take a very long time to recover. The bullet shattered the left side of my collarbone, and even with the fast healing of a nation – retarded by the occupation of my island – it would take a while to heal.

Switzerland sighed, jerking the fork from Italy, "Move."

"I can feed myself, you know," I puffed out my cheeks in protest.

He stared for a minute like I was an idiot, "You're left handed."

"I can eat with my right hand!"

Another forkful was held in front of my face, and his expression softened, "Come on, Seychellen." I had a harder time disagreeing with him than the others. I felt… sad for him. Not sorry – sad. Liechtenstein was last seen in possession of the French Empire, and he had been cut off from his sister for years. We were about the same size, physically and nation-wise. He couldn't rescue Liechtenstein, so for now… I was a surrogate. At least, that's what I thought.

I sighed and obediently ate the food. I couldn't say no to a man so worried for his sister. Italy went over to help Germany, who was having a lot more trouble than me. I was left handed with a mangled left arm. He was right, and that particular arm was completely gone. I was in bad shape, but nowhere near as bad as him.

Austria had gone off somewhere with England (probably to round up his men. Once a nation was found and brought to safety, their people had a strange habit of showing up too and joining the Alliance) and Iceland sat by my side, stoic as usual.

He wouldn't stop _staring_ though, "Iceland, wh-would you stop that?"

Iceland jumped, surprised, "Hvað?

I leaned forward an inch – anymore hurt like a steam roller – and put my good hand against the side of my mouth, whispering, "You're staring."

There was no mistaking the light pink tinge across his cheek, "I… I was not!"

"Were too," I giggled, forcing it shallow so it didn't hurt so bad.

"É… Ég var ekki að-!"

"I do believe you were," My eyes brightened and I tiled my head a bit to see England come in.

"Iggy!" I smiled.

He walked to my bedside and softly patted my head, "Good to see you smiling again, Seychelles. I hope it's not just the morphine." My mood was caused mostly by the drugs, but I wasn't going to tell him that, "Are you feeling better?"

"Wi!" My smile widened into a full-on grin. Blame the morphine.

"That's good," He ruffled my hair a bit before looking up at Switzerland, "Is she eating?"

He shot the Englishman the Swiss equivalent of America's 'Bitch, please!' face, "If I can get Lili to eat vhen she's sick, I can get this hartnäckige Mädchen to."

I didn't know what that meant, but it didn't sound nice, "Hey, what's that supposed to me-"

"Bonjour?"

Everyone froze. The voice was full of static, but I knew it. I _knew_ that voice. My eyes snapped to Switzerland's waist, where his radio laid.

"Dont la fréquence est-ce?"

Switzerland tore the radio off him and held it up, hesitating. I felt cold and numb all over, but saw England nod – after a moment's hesitation – out of the corner of my eye. Switzerland's face grew grave, and after some more garbled French, answered in a dead voice, "Frankreich."

There was silence on the other line before France answered in an equal monotone, "Suisse", followed by another pause before, "So Sesel called you on my radio, did she?"

I could hear the sound of my heart race on the monitor. England's eyes flicked to it, then me, before snapping to Switzerland when he spoke again, "Sie kennen bereits die Antwort darauf."

A hollow, dead laugh thick with static rang from the radio, "Speak in Anglaise, Suisse. There are others there, non? Angleterre, perhaps?"

I saw England stiffen and stand straight like a board. Switzerland looked up at the blonde, and he nodded, "Yes, 'e is."

"Bon," France said as I shivered, remembering the hatred on his face as he pointed the gun at England. Firing the trigger… pain… "Sesel, England," My eyes widened, "Give her to me."

Before Switzerland could say anything, England leaned across the bed and snatched the radio from him, face contorted in rage. He pressed the send button and barked into the receiver, "You have no right to ask that." I wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"I have all the right," France growled, his Insanity showing through, "She is mine, and you know it."

"You shot her."

"She lives."

England looked at me, and I saw a plan in his eyes. It took a minute, but through the giddy haze of morphine I figured it out. My eyes widened and I lunged for him, regretting it when searing pain shot through me.

"Seyche!" Italy shot from Germany's bedside to mine.

"Hold her down," England commanded. France spoke in the background, but he ignored him. France couldn't hear us without the button held down, anyway.

Both Switzerland and Italy's eyes shot up to him, "What?"

His green eyes were hard, and locked with Germany briefly. The two seemed to have a silent conversation, before the German said gruffly, "Listen to him, Feliciano."

Italy swerved around, a complaint dying on his lips. Switzerland moved around to the other side of the bed, eying England along the way. The pain subsided enough that I made another – more calculated – lunge for the radio.

"Mi dispiace, Seyche," Italy said before gently pulling me down by the uninjured arm. Switzerland did the same, but used his torso to keep my injured arm immobile with one arm bracing the headboard and the other covering my mouth.

My eyes looked around wildly, tears obscuring them, and my cries were so muffled I knew they wouldn't reach the receiver. England stepped back from the bed, giving me such a sorrowful, pity look. I hated it. Then he hit the receiver, and I thrashed as hard as my exhausted and injured body would let me. Both men were far stronger than me, but Italy shot Germany a pleading look. Germany closed his eyes and shook his head.

England hesitated, but finally said, "She's dead."

"Non! You lying bastard!" France screamed from the other end, "I know it is not true! If she was dead, I would know, and-"

"The nation of Seychelles is dead, Francis. Victoria Jeanne Delacroix is **dead**. _You killed her._"

I stopped struggling when I heard France's howl with rage. It was loud, animalistic, and nothing I had ever imagined could come from my France. It made me feel like ice, my whole being consumed by abject fear. There was no sound like it; I could see the color drain from even England's face as he flipped the radio power switch, cutting the scream off.

Slowly, Switzerland and Italy released me, but I couldn't move. All I could do was choke out, "Pour… quoi?" Tears slid down my cheeks, but I didn't make a sound.

England turned away with a grimace. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead squeezed his eyes and hands shut, shaking slightly. He stormed from the room, slamming the door closed.

"To protect you, Seychellen," Germany muttered. I didn't look over – I didn't have the strength left, "If he thinks you dead, he von't chase you anymore."

Switzerland looked up from me, "Vhat if he asks for a body?"

"He knows England von't give him one," Germany said, "But dat doesn't matter. The war vill only get vorse from now on."

None of us knew how much. None of us, not even Germany, could predict what was going to happen. How many people would be slaughtered, how many lives – human and nation alike – would be lost. What was changing in France as we spoke. What England had just set in motion. The monster he'd released.

All I could think about, all I dreamt about, was the raw pain in France's howl.

I wished he had killed me.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The excerpt from the beginning is from my In Her one-shot, from Seychelles point of view. The song is, once again, Doucement s'en va le jour. Also, actually researched helicopters for this one: they weren't far from Berlin, and helicopters can fly around 130 to 275 km/hr, and can go somewhere between 200-400 km without refueling. So it took them about an hour and a half or so to get to Copenhagen via helicopter. Just a little tidbit n.n So yup. Chapter Thirteen. A most unlucky number. What 'cha think? 8D?

**Translation:**

**French:**

exemple de realization – embodiment

ma pêche – my peach

Tu es à moi… toujours – You are mine. Forever.

C'est bien… - That's good…

Non – no

Bonjour? – Hello?

Dont la fréquence est-ce? – Whose frequency is this?

Suisse – Switzerland

Anglaise – English

Angleterre – England

Bon. – Good.

Pour…quoi? – Wh… y?

**Italian:**

Seyche, per favore! Non si può morire! – Seyches, please! You can't die!

Mi dispiace, Seyche. – I'm sorry, Seyche

**German:**

Seychellen – Seychelles

hartnäckige Mädchen – stubborn girl

Frankreich – France

Sie kennen bereits die Antwort darauf. – You already know the answer to that.

**Icelandic:**

Hvað? – What?

É… Ég var ekki að-! – I… I was not-!

**Seychellois Kreole:**

Wi - yes


	14. I Won't Let Them Take You

**Disclaimer:** Okay, seriously? At this point? Fine. Not mine =.=

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

**I Won't Let Them Take You**

_Kill a man, and you are a murderer. Kill millions of men, and you are a conquerer. Kill everyone, and you are a god._

_- Jean Rostand_

* * *

I didn't talk to England for days after France's call. So what if he did it to protect me? France's pained scream haunted my every thought, and I couldn't help but get so mad at my ex-colonist. He tried to talk to me, but I refused to even look at him. I know it was unfair and childish, but since when is life fair? Or when have I not been childish? I'm only a tiny island, after all.

Tiny and insignificant.

Powerless.

"Seyche?" Italy snapped me from my thoughts, his eyebrows drawn down in worry. He was sitting between mine and Germany's bed. It had been an uneventful week since I woke up. There was no gunfire, no battles. Iceland had told me that nothing was going on outside, either. The French armies had retreated and hadn't fired a single shot. None of us could figure out why, but I felt uneasy. Something about France's animalistic scream on the radio, together with this lack of fighting and what England said about how France acted after he shot me, scared me. Not the normal scared, either. The kind of dread that permeates every cell of your body. The little voice in the back of your head that tells you something is very, _very_, wrong.

"Ciao, Seyche?" Italy waved a hand in my face, and I jumped a bit.

I really needed to stop dozing off like that, "W… wi, Feli?"

"Are you okay?" Italy said, being careful to keep his voice low. Germany was asleep, and it was just the two of us for the first time since our little excursion across Germany.

I shook my head quickly, "I'm fine, Feli. Just a little tired, that's all. Getting shot does that to a person." I forced a smile. I'd been spacey all week, and could see how Italy and the others worried. England probably thought I'd run off again.

He was right, of course, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Are you sure? I… I could get Inghilterra to issue more morphi-"

"Non!" He jumped and Germany stirred behind him. I clamped a hand over my mouth – I hadn't meant to yell – before looking down and muttering, "Désolé…"

We both fell silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Italy wanted to say something. I wanted to as well, but just couldn't find the words. There was so much I wanted to say to everyone. To France.

"Do you… miss him?" Italy said quietly.

My head snapped up. I didn't need to ask who 'him' was. I sighed and looked away. Did I miss France? Did I really? My chest hurt, and it wasn't from the hole in my shoulder, "I…" I bit my lip, concentrating on my fingers as they played with the bed sheets. I couldn't think of an answer, honestly, because I didn't know, "Which France?"

"Huh?"

I looked up at Italy, "I miss France. My France. The France who raised me on my little island. The France I…" Love. I wanted to say 'The France I love', but it just wouldn't come out. My hands balled into fists, gripping the sheets until my knuckles were white, "I want that France back. But this new one…" I looked away again. Italy's eyes were sad, almost pitying. I didn't want pity, "This French Empire… I don't miss him."

Italy stood, and I jumped a bit when he sat on the edge of my bed, "Seyche… I don't remember how I was during World War II. My vision's all hazy and stuff, but now… I'm me, sai? I got better." He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled that Italian smile. Carefree, like during our Gakuen days, "France will too. I know it."

"But…" I looked to the side at his hand and bit my lip, "You might not remember, and he might not, but I will. England, America, and France remembered World War II. Germany remembers what he did."

"But he'll be alive, giusto?" His smile faltered for half a second.

"Yeah…" I nodded, bringing my knees up to my chest. My shoulder throbbed a bit from the movement, but it was already well on its way to healing. Perk of being immortal, I guess.

I let the conversation drop, because I didn't want to tell Italy what I really thought. So much had changed with this war. I don't think I could ever look at France the same, even if he survived the war. No one knew how many were dead on both sides, but the total was well over two billion. The entire world was decimated, and even if France survived, he would never forget it.

And if he did survive, he would go back to being a nation, and eventually would return to his former power, just like Germany had. I didn't want to admit it, but a nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me of how unfair it all was. We were forced to do things based on what our people thought, and sometimes it sent us into Insanity. When the Insanity's over, if the infected survive, they rebuild and return. There's no execution of the nation or anything. No real 'justice' against the embodiment of the nation that started the fighting.

I sighed and laid back down, staring up at the ceiling, "It's not fair."

"Never is," I let my head loll to the side to see England leaning against the doorway. I hadn't heard him come in… then again, I wasn't really paying attention. I looked the other way as he pushed off the door and walked to my bedside. I was still a little angry at him, but couldn't help but feel bad for how much of a child I was acting, "Victoria…"

I bit my lip, refusing to look over at him, but saying, "Wi?"

England sighed heavily in relief, "Oh good, you're talking again." I twitched and looked over at him, annoyed at the exasperated tone in his voice. He was the one who lied to France, not me! "There's the stubborn Seychelles we all know and love." Then England smiled. Like Italy, it was real… but unlike Italy, it didn't meet his eyes. Once again, I felt bad, "Sey, I just came to tell you that you're being moved."

I blinked, a little startled, and blurted out, "What?"

"I talked with the others," I didn't miss how his eyes flicked to Italy, who was finding the bed sheets very interesting at the moment, "And we're moving you Trondheim, Norway."

That caught me off guard, "What about Umee?" Had something happened? Why would they move me somewhere else if it hadn't? Was Eritrea okay? She might fall to Insanity, even though she's so young…

He stared at me for a moment before looking away, "Before you yell at me again, Eritrea and the others are fine. The eastern border got worse while you were gone, and the French Empire occupied the ruins of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. I had reason to believe France knew about the nations hiding in Umee, so I asked Norway if we could secretly move them to Trondheim. That's all."

I loosed a breath I hadn't known I was holding. Eritrea was safe. I was glad; if something happened to her, I'd never be able to forgive myself. England was going to send me there too, for my 'safety'. I grimaced, "I don't need protection, Arthur." I looked up at him, eyes hard and defiant, "I want to fight too."

"No, you want to run," I tried to look surprised, but England saw through it like usual. He sighed and his shoulders sagged in exasperation. England looked like an old man, stressed and drawn, "Victoria, please." I felt bad. England sounded so worried and stressed, and I knew some of it was because of me, "Just don't."

"But I can help him, Arthur," I said. He closed his eyes, and clenched his fists.

"You can't."

"Yes, I ca-"

"_Victoria!_" Italy and I jumped when he yelled.

England fell silent and Italy got up, looking worriedly between the two of us, "Um…" He looked behind England to Germany, and I saw the injured nation groan, "You… you woke up Ludwig, England."

"Huh?" England was broken from his frustration, turning to look at the awoken Germany. He sighed, "Bloody 'ell, I didn't mean to yell." When he looked back at me, I shifted around a bit, nervous. I felt bad again, but I knew I could help France break from the Insanity. Even if we couldn't go back to the way things were, I could make him see reason. I _had_ to… "How are you feeling, Seychelles?"

"… better," I mumbled, staring down at my hands, "My shoulder hurts a bit, but if I don't move it, I'm fine."

He nodded, "Let's go for a walk."

"Huh?" My head whipped up, surprised.

"You've been cooped up here for a week," England gently took off the blankets and helped me out. The doctors had removed the IV earlier, but England had order me bed rest, so I hadn't gotten up yet. My legs were a bit shaky, so he wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me, "Come on."

There was no arguing with the Englishman, and he led me from the room as Italy tended to Germany. The hallways were filled with recovering soldiers, but for the most part the base was quiet. I wasn't used to it, and my mind soon wandered to the only thing it seemed to lately;

France.

What was he doing right now? Where was he? What happened after England took me away? How could I stop him? Was there a way? _'No, there has to be,'_ I thought. I wouldn't let myself believe anything else.

England brought me to the small room acting as his office. He helped me into a torn up couch, but I brushed him off as soon as I could. I hated being treated like a child, like a colony.

He sat next to me, bend forward with his elbows on his knees. England didn't look at me, but stared straight ahead, "Seychelles, Ukraine and Turkey are dead."

"Dead?" I was confused, but felt cold spread through me, "How?" It was so hard to kill a nation to begin with. Germany was found after his country was destroyed, critically injured but still alive. I had never seen one of us die before. Even ones who lost their land, like Prussia and Rome, were still alive, "What do you mean?"

"I mean France killed them," England deadpanned.

The cold turned to ice, "Wh-what?"

"When Ukraine tried to escape his custody, he killed her and sent the body to Russia," He said in monotone, "And France killed Turkey during battle. Both with a gunshot right here." England pointed between his eyes.

"Mon dieu…" My hands flew to my mouth. I couldn't believe it. France, a nation-killer? I didn't know Ukraine or Turkey well, but I did remember them from World Academy W. Ukraine had seemed so nice… how could France do such a thing? "Wh… why?"

"Because he's not France anymore," England said, still looking straight ahead and still speaking in that terrible monotone, "None of us are _us_ when we're Insane, Seychelles. Ukraine and Turkey are not the only ones either. Brazil, India, Pakistan, and the Netherlands are dead. We got word just after you and Italy left that Latvia was killed and Estonia captured. It's only a manner of time before he's killed or driven Insane."

"Non…" I didn't want to believe it. Nations, dead? Truly, completely dead?

"It hasn't happened before," I wanted to cry. If the nations were dead, what about their people? Were they gone too? What happens to the people when a nation is killed like that? "Seychelles, you need to understand. I was driven to Insanity during the American Revolution, but even then I couldn't shoot America. I thought it would be like that with France; I've known him for over a millennia. 'I couldn't kill America, so he won't kill me' I thought…" England chuckled mirthlessly, "But if it wasn't for you jumping in front of me like a bloody moron, I might be dead right now." He tilted his head in my direction, "He acts like France, talks like France, and you may think France is still in there somewhere… but he's not. Things will only get worse, Seychelles, and Germany was right. France was going to kill me, and he _will_ kill you if he gets a hold of you. Maybe not right away, maybe not until he wins – not like he will – but unless he's stopped, France will kill us all."

"It's not true…" I covered my face with my good hand, trying to stop from crying. The tears came anyway, though, and my shoulders shook from the sobs. England wrapped his arms around me, and the dam broke. I threw myself at him, ignoring my shoulder when it exploded in pain, and cried, "It's not true!"

"I'm sorry, Victoria…" England said, laying his chin on top of my head and rubbed circles on my back. I know he was trying to sooth me, but how could he? I loved France. I loved a nation-killer. When did the first one die? Last month? A year ago? Before the bombs dropped? The way England spoke… France must have killed them all himself. How did Ukraine feel, when she was caught and killed? What about Russia, when his sister's body was delivered?

England was right; he wasn't France. I knew that, but wanted to believe so badly that my France was in there somewhere. But how could there be, if he'd killed nations already? I knew he wanted to kill England, and probably would have, but to know the France had done it before… that was almost too much. Ukraine, Turkey, Estonia, and the others… they were the ones the Alliance knew about. What about all the ones yet to be rescued after the bombs? England thought Germany was dead until Italy and I found him. All the countries that were 'missing'… how many of them had been killed by the French Empire?

"Why…?" My voice was muffled as I sobbed into England's chest. He held me tighter, but that only made me cry harder, "I want him b-back, Arthur. I want Francis back!"

"Shh… I know, Victoria…" England said, "I know."

I just kept crying. I cried for France, I cried for Ukraine and the others, I cried for myself… at the injustice of everything. Why did this have to happen? I wanted my carefree, perverted France back. I wanted it so badly it hurt more than the gunshot, but it would never happen. He had actually killed the embodiments of nations. Every part of me didn't want to believe it, but why would England lie about something like that?

I don't know how long I cried in England's arms. It seemed like hours, and it didn't stop even after all my tears were spent. I let everything out, and England just held me without saying a word.

An explosion shook the room, and I gripped England in shock.

"What the-?" He tore away from me, racing to the window and jerking open the blinds, "Shit."

"Wh-wh…?" I got up and tried to make my way to the window, but he stopped me, "A-Arthur?"

"Come on," He grabbed my hand and threw the door open.

Soldiers ran about, and another explosion shook the base. I stumbled and my injured shoulder hit the wall. I howled in pain, but England pulled me down the hallway.

"England!" Iceland was there when we turned a corner.

"Take her," England handed me off to him, "What the hell's going on?"

"I don't know," Iceland was bewildered. He took me by my good arm, and his face turned worried saw my shoulder. I looked over and saw a bit of red on the bandages; I must have torn the stitches when I hit the wall, "Seychelles, you shoulder-"

"Iceland!"

His face snapped up to England, "They came out of nowhere. The troops are mobilizing-"

"Air or ground forces?"

"Air," The two started down the hall again. Soldiers made way, and Iceland pulled me along much gentler than England had, "A direct attack for the main base."

"What is France _thinking_?" England seethed, "A direct attack… it's suicide. Our anti-air artillery-"

"They took one or two down before the planes reached us," Iceland said, "But I got a report from the front; they've started a full on assault there."

"Dammit, France…" England threw open the door to the conference room. A few other nations were in there, but I couldn't see Italy anywhere.

"This isn't a well thought out attack," Norway said from the back of the room.

"Who's manning the front right now?" England demanded.

"Denmark, Scotland, and Switzerland," He said, "I was going to head there now."

"This isn't right," Austria paced at the head of the room, "It's a wild attack, like a beasts. It's not how France fights. He's methodical, tests our defenses to find a weakness. He's _smarter_ than this."

"He's lost it," Ireland murmured, "Gone completely off the deep end."

Gone off the deep end. Insane. Nation-killer. I shuddered, unconsciously gripping Iceland's hand tighter. He tilted his head back to me a bit. England saw that, and my terrified, tear-stained face.

"We have to get Seychelles and Germany out," My head shot up. Get us out? Now? In the middle of an airstrike?"

"We can't," Norway shook his head, mirroring my thoughts, "Until the skies clear, we can't get a plane out safely."

"Ship then; get them to Malmo, then Trondheim," England argued.

"Who's going to man it?" Norway said, his voice level, "We can't spare the men, England."

England growled. Ireland looked passed him and locked eyes with me, "He's after her 'body'. Give her up."

"No!" Both England and Iceland shouted. I was startled, and tensed. Norway raised an eyebrow at Iceland, who looked away.

"Iceland, prepare a cargo plane to transport Seychelles and Germany along with the critically injured," England said, adding before anyone could protest, "As soon as the skies are cleared, get her out of here."

"I'm not leaving," Iceland shook his head.

"Do it, Iceland," Norway said. The other nation's head snapped over to him in shock, "We need someone to go and get as many of the refugee nations to join us here or on the Russian front as possible."

"But Norway-" He protested.

Norway sighed, "Just go."

"Tch," Iceland hesitated for a moment.

That gave me an opening. My eyes locked on England, "I'm not going anywhere, Arthur!" If I couldn't help France, and if he really had killed those nations like England said, then the least I could do was help stop him. I don't know how I could help, but there had to be something. I wasn't a useless colony anymore; I could fight too.

"No," Of course that was England's answer.

"But-!"

He whipped around, angry. I shrank back, and England said, "I promised France I would keep you safe, goddammit, and that's what I plan to do! You're a nation, yes, but you're only a little girl, Seychelles! Your island is occupied and we haven't liberated it or any of your people, so you have no men to command. The only way you would be of any use here would be if I stuck you on the front to fight, which I would rather take a thousand of France's bullets than do." England growled, and I stepped back in alarm, "I am getting you out of here, end of discussion, _do you understand, Victoria?_"

No one said a thing, and I tore my gaze away from him, staring at the floor like a child. He sounded so mad, but I could hear all the stress and worry in his voice. Stress and worry I had helped cause, "Wi, Arthur…"

"Good," England turned away, "Iceland, please…"

Iceland nodded, and pulled me from the room by the good hand. He led me quickly through the base to a colossal hanger, shouting orders to the nearest pilot. A large cargo plane was starting to be prepared, and I was left in the care of a couple soldiers while Iceland went to get Germany. I could hear the sounds of fighter planes and gunfire outside, and every now and then the bunker shook from the force of a bomb. I wrapped my good arm around myself, trying to still the erratic thumping of my heart. Ireland's and England's words wouldn't leave me. France had killed nations. France was coming for my body. Nations were dead. Gone for good.

My hand slowly moved up to my bandages as Iceland hurried in, an exasperated Italy at his heels. Behind them, Germany was wheeled in on a medical bed, IV strapped to the corner of it. He was wheeled onboard, and Iceland pulled me inside with him. Other injured soldiers were brought in with us, and Italy pushed his way into the plane too.

"Get out, Italy," Iceland warned.

"I'm coming to!" The Italian protested, "I'm not leaving Ludwig!"

"Italien…" Germany said weakly from his bed, "I'll… be fine."

Italy shook his head in defiance, "No! I'm coming to. I don't care what England says; I'm not leaving you alone again, Germany!"

"We have clearance!" Someone called outside.

Iceland stared at Italy for a full minute, but the other nation didn't back down. I sighed; Italy may be a coward, but he was even more persistent. _Especially_ when it came to Germany.

"Fine, but you're explaining it to England," Iceland grumbled, turning away from him to help strap me into a hard metal seat on the side of the plane. A bright smile broke out across Italy's face, and he hurried to the seat closest to where Germany's stretcher was strapped in.

Once everything was ready and the plane closed, the go-ahead was given. I couldn't see outside, but as the plane started to move, I couldn't hear gunfire anymore. The planes must've been taken down, but England had said that there was massive fighting at the front. How long before it reached here?

Concern for England, Switzerland, and the others flooded me. France wouldn't hesitate to kill them if he got a chance now, would he? If something happened to England, I would never forgive myself. I hated feeling so small, so helpless. England was right; I was only a little island nation. Who knows if my people were even alive anymore? I couldn't do anything to help… I couldn't even stop France.

As the plane lifted off and carried me away, something in me changed. I was only one girl, one tiny, insignificant nation. Even if there was nothing for me to do on the front, I would find something else. I would find some way to stop France, no matter what.

I had to.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm going to start editing the chapters, but I most likely won't release the edited ones until the story is finished. Well, maybe, maybe not; haven't decided xD. I usually release chapters about five minutes after writing them, so all of these are raw and unedited. Someone had recommended Nightingale on TVTropes Fanfic Recs: Axis Powers Hetalia, and I feel so honored for it. Chibiaries, whoever you are, you're awesome and thanks so much. However, someone else commented on the recommendation saying they didn't like my story and gave reasons, so I've decided to go through Nightingale with their review in mind. Once Nightingale is finished, I'll be looking for a beta or two (or three xP) to help me do an overall edit of Nightingale so this story gets better. I plan to submit to KumoriCon's fanfic contest, after all (2012, hopefully n.n)

**Translation:**

**Italian:**

Ciao? – Hello?

Inghilterra – England

sai? – you know?

giusto? – right?

**Seychellois Creole:**

Wi – yes

Non – no

**French:**

Désolé – Sorry

Mon dieu – My god

**Germany:**

Italien - Italy


End file.
